I know Jay from Liz Gilbert’s, Letters From Love. The time and attention they take with such a vibrant depth of care for others resembles the canyon that calls their heart. I adore the idea of re-wilding, pruning, weeding, tending to the new birthing shoots. This way of being calms me, because I realize I don’t need to “burn the house” down, yet nurture what is. The lens out of which Jay sees and stewards is such a gift. Thank you, Jeannie, for sharing Jay with us, and for your generosity, Jay. They take tending to their fold with every ounce of their life force energy. It is tangible and felt. A deep bow in the canyon to you two. I’m listening, unlearning, learning, and re-wilding right alongside. Lovingly and with aloha💜🪶
Joanie, thank you for reading and commenting. I truly means a lot to me. The way you witness and carry words feels like a tender canopy overhead — both shade and shelter. I feel your aloha as a quiet, steady current flowing toward me, and I bow with gratitude for how you stand listening, unlearning, and re-wilding alongside. Your care is tangible, and I receive it with reverence. xo Jay
So glad you are here, Joanie, and that Jay’s story touched you. The “burn down the house” image is quite powerful, and it’s incredible that you resonate with it so deeply in your life. I appreciate you!
So much about this spoke to me, including the images of the Bodhi tree (gasp!) and Jay at the foot of beautiful Sigiriya. I also really REALLY loved this line: “Resilience is no longer a virtue or identity. It is a tool.”
There is so much in this that I could comment on. Perhaps the deepest from my perspective was when I read about appreciating the cycles of shedding and renewing, I really felt something, viscerally, and more than vicerally. I felt this writing both within and beyond the visceral. When I sat with it and the imagery in your writing I realised I felt that emerging and encompassing awe that one feels in nature. I realised they had led us into the canyon. Thankyou Jay.
"These new branches are free from the weight of performance and the need to conform. They symbolize the freedom I find in shaping my life not by what I could withstand, but by what I choose to build from my deepest truth. It is the conscious choice to let go of survival mode.
I embrace the wild, unknown space beyond it, where genuine healing begins."
I appreciate you so much, Melanie. I am so grateful for your words and that I have been able to actually take you into this Canyon with me. It is a very powerful place if we allow ourselves to explore it's depths, nooks and crannies, the many crevices, overhangs, even caves. It might be a bit scary and yet for me it is a very rewarding exploration. Thank you.
A few years ago I cut down a basswood tree as a favor to the lady who owns the house next door on our right. The tree had a narrow trunk, no more than twelve inches diameter at the base, but it was as tall as a two-story house. All I asked was to keep the trunk, as I had a purpose for the wood. The tree was a problem because the roots were trying to break through into her basement and the branches and leaves were interfering with her tenants’ satellite dishes’ reception. Because the trunk was so close to a fence and the corner of the house, I couldn’t cut it down flush with the ground. The stump that remains is about 2 1/2 feet tall. Every spring since then it has sent up branches and leaves and it needs to be trimmed back or it will again start blocking the satellite dishes. In addition, this stump has sent out roots into my yard that have sprouted three young basswood trees on my property. I tried to replant two of them in the extreme back of my yard because I like the shade and the windscreen that trees provide. The two trees that I moved died inside of a week, but the third one that I left alone is doing just fine. The mention of a tree stump is what prompted me to tell this story. Right now we have two walnut trees, a Rose of Sharon and the little basswood tree that is the child of the tree I cut down for my neighbor. If any more trees pop up in my yard I will likely leave them to grow. The shade from the trees keeps the sunlight off my grass and the back of my house. I only have to cut my grass once or twice a year. (This is a big plus for me, as I have ankylosing spondylitis and fibromyalgia, as well as a skin condition that leaves me practically defenseless against direct sunlight. Two or three minutes in the afternoon sun and I can feel my skin starting to itch and burn.). Another thing that I take away from this post is that it seems that bullying has risen to such a level that often we don’t feel like we’re trying hard enough unless we are bullying ourselves into putting out the maximum possible effort 24-7-365. The consequences of pushing ourselves to the maximum all the time can include anxiety, breakdowns, ulcers, hypertension, sports injuries, insomnia and the worsening of any condition that we already have. I’m so glad to read that Jay has learned to be kinder and stop pushing themselves so hard. Thanks, Jeannie, for inviting them to guest on your newsletter!
Rafael, I love hearing about the basswood tree and its saplings! (We have a basswood adjacent to our mail box.) In fact, it seems to me you could incorporate this into your own “I grow strong again” story! Thanks for sharing this with Jay today. Grateful for you.
Rafael, thank you for your story. It moved me—the way the basswood refuses finality feels like living proof of what I tried to name: that life finds its way through what looked cut down. And we are sometimes more resilient as we believe. That's where I hear the cost in your body’s limits and the wisdom in letting shade and rest become allies.
The stump, the branches, the kindness toward yourself—they’re all one teaching.
These words jumped out at me: "Who am I without the constant striving?' Such a poignant question. A slow answer rising in me, one of many take-aways. I read all of the interview, but could not declare that I had finished with it. Writing like this will haunt and linger for a time, revealing more as I breathe it in, asking more of me. I'm left with a feeling and a spark of light that will grow.
Jeannie, Thank you for hosting this interview with Jay. I've been reading her work for a while, and I am moved by how she moved through the questions you posed.
And Jay, I love this idea that strength, growing strong is a "radical stripping" away of those things that do not serve one -- thus the question you ignited in my heart, "Who am I without the constant striving?"
Sincere thanks to Jeannie for interviewing and for Jay for answering from her marrow. What a gift. Thank you. ~stephanie
Hi Stephanie, thanks for sharing this comment here for Jay. I was especially struck by your phrase “a slow answer rising in me.” I think that’s apt. It lends to the fact that the biggest changes that happen to us occur over a long period of time and it’s important for us to take our time with it—slow down, listen, tune our inner ear.
Jay has a way of helping me slow down with their words. It was such an honor to feature them this month!
Jay has a way of teaching all of us something about being fully human. Slow means you don't have to rush past the best parts of the story, or the best parts of how it makes room for change and personal growth. I'm a fan of her writing and her life philosophy.
Thank you so much Stephanie, I already commented on your kind restack and can only repeat, I am deeply moved by your words. I am humbled my words have been able to touch you and shown you maybe an idea of a new perspective. I in my journey am always grateful for new ways of seeing things. I cannot necessarily cover all bases and the field and the stadium with its parking lot as well as the surrounding city, state, country and continent. Thank you. I appreciate you xo Jay
Thank you Jeannie and Jay for sharing this powerful story. Deep admiration for your courage and honesty, Jay. All of this story resonated with me and this bit especially: “The journey from survival to thriving is often a radical act of stopping and choosing. It is not merely an evolution. It is a terrifying, liberating decision to step out of systems that demand endless performance.” It is truly terrifying when you take that first step on that path. But even more frightening, I now know, would have been how things would have turned out if I’d stayed on it.
And I loved seeing the places in Sri Lanka that I visited on my honeymoon 25 years ago! 💙
Amanda, thank you so much for mirroring my words back to me. I am humbled my words reached and moved you. I appreciate you. The reading and commenting, too.
Wow, Amanda, thanks for sharing this. I always appreciate it when my guests, like Jay, write resonant pieces that draw readers into their own memories. That, to me, is a hallmark of excellent writing. It was an honor to feature Jay this month. I’m so glad they shared their story with us!
Thank you so much Mary Beth. My whole journey felt more and more like that. So much so, that I no longer fit into this conceptual environment. I will leave it, when I have settled everything.
I know Jay from Liz Gilbert’s, Letters From Love. The time and attention they take with such a vibrant depth of care for others resembles the canyon that calls their heart. I adore the idea of re-wilding, pruning, weeding, tending to the new birthing shoots. This way of being calms me, because I realize I don’t need to “burn the house” down, yet nurture what is. The lens out of which Jay sees and stewards is such a gift. Thank you, Jeannie, for sharing Jay with us, and for your generosity, Jay. They take tending to their fold with every ounce of their life force energy. It is tangible and felt. A deep bow in the canyon to you two. I’m listening, unlearning, learning, and re-wilding right alongside. Lovingly and with aloha💜🪶
Joanie, thank you for reading and commenting. I truly means a lot to me. The way you witness and carry words feels like a tender canopy overhead — both shade and shelter. I feel your aloha as a quiet, steady current flowing toward me, and I bow with gratitude for how you stand listening, unlearning, and re-wilding alongside. Your care is tangible, and I receive it with reverence. xo Jay
So glad you are receiving lots of love in my Substack space, Jay. :)
Absolutely, I truly appreciate you and having featured me and my writing. It seams to have resonated with people.
I knew it would, Jay! :)
So glad you are here, Joanie, and that Jay’s story touched you. The “burn down the house” image is quite powerful, and it’s incredible that you resonate with it so deeply in your life. I appreciate you!
So much about this spoke to me, including the images of the Bodhi tree (gasp!) and Jay at the foot of beautiful Sigiriya. I also really REALLY loved this line: “Resilience is no longer a virtue or identity. It is a tool.”
That’s lovely that this aspect especially struck you, Stephanie. I’m so glad. Jay is truly a profound writer and has many gifts.
Thank you so much, Stephanie. Yes that tree is something and a wonderful metaphor for resilience itself. I appreciate you reading and commenting.
There is so much in this that I could comment on. Perhaps the deepest from my perspective was when I read about appreciating the cycles of shedding and renewing, I really felt something, viscerally, and more than vicerally. I felt this writing both within and beyond the visceral. When I sat with it and the imagery in your writing I realised I felt that emerging and encompassing awe that one feels in nature. I realised they had led us into the canyon. Thankyou Jay.
"These new branches are free from the weight of performance and the need to conform. They symbolize the freedom I find in shaping my life not by what I could withstand, but by what I choose to build from my deepest truth. It is the conscious choice to let go of survival mode.
I embrace the wild, unknown space beyond it, where genuine healing begins."
Loved this.
A beautiful, tender, and sacred affirmation for Jay. Thank you for showing up in this way, Melanie.
I appreciate you so much, Melanie. I am so grateful for your words and that I have been able to actually take you into this Canyon with me. It is a very powerful place if we allow ourselves to explore it's depths, nooks and crannies, the many crevices, overhangs, even caves. It might be a bit scary and yet for me it is a very rewarding exploration. Thank you.
Ahh, the metaphor of the canyon, Jay. That is really powerful. Thank you.
This is wonderful❤️❤️❤️
Thank you Maia
Jay, you are one of my most favorite rewilding rebels for rest with generosity and wisdom beyond measure. Thank you dear friend.
Prajna, thanks for showing up to bear witness to Jay’s story. I was just thinking of you yesterday—so happy to see your name pop up here today.
Prajna, I am feeling very humbled by your words. Thank you so much. I truly appreciate you and your wisdom. xo Jay
A few years ago I cut down a basswood tree as a favor to the lady who owns the house next door on our right. The tree had a narrow trunk, no more than twelve inches diameter at the base, but it was as tall as a two-story house. All I asked was to keep the trunk, as I had a purpose for the wood. The tree was a problem because the roots were trying to break through into her basement and the branches and leaves were interfering with her tenants’ satellite dishes’ reception. Because the trunk was so close to a fence and the corner of the house, I couldn’t cut it down flush with the ground. The stump that remains is about 2 1/2 feet tall. Every spring since then it has sent up branches and leaves and it needs to be trimmed back or it will again start blocking the satellite dishes. In addition, this stump has sent out roots into my yard that have sprouted three young basswood trees on my property. I tried to replant two of them in the extreme back of my yard because I like the shade and the windscreen that trees provide. The two trees that I moved died inside of a week, but the third one that I left alone is doing just fine. The mention of a tree stump is what prompted me to tell this story. Right now we have two walnut trees, a Rose of Sharon and the little basswood tree that is the child of the tree I cut down for my neighbor. If any more trees pop up in my yard I will likely leave them to grow. The shade from the trees keeps the sunlight off my grass and the back of my house. I only have to cut my grass once or twice a year. (This is a big plus for me, as I have ankylosing spondylitis and fibromyalgia, as well as a skin condition that leaves me practically defenseless against direct sunlight. Two or three minutes in the afternoon sun and I can feel my skin starting to itch and burn.). Another thing that I take away from this post is that it seems that bullying has risen to such a level that often we don’t feel like we’re trying hard enough unless we are bullying ourselves into putting out the maximum possible effort 24-7-365. The consequences of pushing ourselves to the maximum all the time can include anxiety, breakdowns, ulcers, hypertension, sports injuries, insomnia and the worsening of any condition that we already have. I’m so glad to read that Jay has learned to be kinder and stop pushing themselves so hard. Thanks, Jeannie, for inviting them to guest on your newsletter!
Rafael, I love hearing about the basswood tree and its saplings! (We have a basswood adjacent to our mail box.) In fact, it seems to me you could incorporate this into your own “I grow strong again” story! Thanks for sharing this with Jay today. Grateful for you.
Rafael, thank you for your story. It moved me—the way the basswood refuses finality feels like living proof of what I tried to name: that life finds its way through what looked cut down. And we are sometimes more resilient as we believe. That's where I hear the cost in your body’s limits and the wisdom in letting shade and rest become allies.
The stump, the branches, the kindness toward yourself—they’re all one teaching.
Grateful you shared this image back to me. xo Jay
These words jumped out at me: "Who am I without the constant striving?' Such a poignant question. A slow answer rising in me, one of many take-aways. I read all of the interview, but could not declare that I had finished with it. Writing like this will haunt and linger for a time, revealing more as I breathe it in, asking more of me. I'm left with a feeling and a spark of light that will grow.
Jeannie, Thank you for hosting this interview with Jay. I've been reading her work for a while, and I am moved by how she moved through the questions you posed.
And Jay, I love this idea that strength, growing strong is a "radical stripping" away of those things that do not serve one -- thus the question you ignited in my heart, "Who am I without the constant striving?"
Sincere thanks to Jeannie for interviewing and for Jay for answering from her marrow. What a gift. Thank you. ~stephanie
Hi Stephanie, thanks for sharing this comment here for Jay. I was especially struck by your phrase “a slow answer rising in me.” I think that’s apt. It lends to the fact that the biggest changes that happen to us occur over a long period of time and it’s important for us to take our time with it—slow down, listen, tune our inner ear.
Jay has a way of helping me slow down with their words. It was such an honor to feature them this month!
Jeannie, you are so kind and your words humble me. Yes indeed some things need time. I just revisited my two coming out stories (I had written about it in January 2025 already) 34 years apart and the second 50 years in the making. Tell me about slow. https://open.substack.com/pub/wildlionessespride/p/the-quantum-of-freedom?r=1sss7q&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=false
Wow, thanks for sharing these stories with me, Jay. Let me take a peek in a bit. I appreciate this!
Jay has a way of teaching all of us something about being fully human. Slow means you don't have to rush past the best parts of the story, or the best parts of how it makes room for change and personal growth. I'm a fan of her writing and her life philosophy.
Stephanie, I am grateful and humbled by your response. Thank you for seeing me so clearly.
Thank you so much Stephanie, I already commented on your kind restack and can only repeat, I am deeply moved by your words. I am humbled my words have been able to touch you and shown you maybe an idea of a new perspective. I in my journey am always grateful for new ways of seeing things. I cannot necessarily cover all bases and the field and the stadium with its parking lot as well as the surrounding city, state, country and continent. Thank you. I appreciate you xo Jay
Beautiful!
Thanks for being here, Janet, and for sending Jay this note.
I appreciate you, Janet.
Thank you Jeannie and Jay for sharing this powerful story. Deep admiration for your courage and honesty, Jay. All of this story resonated with me and this bit especially: “The journey from survival to thriving is often a radical act of stopping and choosing. It is not merely an evolution. It is a terrifying, liberating decision to step out of systems that demand endless performance.” It is truly terrifying when you take that first step on that path. But even more frightening, I now know, would have been how things would have turned out if I’d stayed on it.
And I loved seeing the places in Sri Lanka that I visited on my honeymoon 25 years ago! 💙
Amanda, thank you so much for mirroring my words back to me. I am humbled my words reached and moved you. I appreciate you. The reading and commenting, too.
Wow, Amanda, thanks for sharing this. I always appreciate it when my guests, like Jay, write resonant pieces that draw readers into their own memories. That, to me, is a hallmark of excellent writing. It was an honor to feature Jay this month. I’m so glad they shared their story with us!
Jeannie, again. Thank you.
You’re welcome. :)
Love your analogies Jaybi💚rd, and love the word re-wilding. It fits well here. 🖊️
So glad you stopped by to read this, Mary Beth. Thank you!
Thank you so much Mary Beth. My whole journey felt more and more like that. So much so, that I no longer fit into this conceptual environment. I will leave it, when I have settled everything.
Beautiful.
Thanks, Jazmine, for sharing this affirmation for Jay!
I appreciate you Jazmine.