Walking Around in Circles

and coming back to you

Everybody needs a time out now and then. I took one, and I’m here to say I’m all good with that now, thank you very much.

Since I pulled the plug on my blog/newsletter over at sixburnersue.com a few months ago (with so many excuses – Too much work! Constant Contact too pricey! The sky is falling!), I’ve missed being in touch with you and I’ve missed the mindfulness that comes from scanning the horizon for random bits of wisdom. Okay, maybe not always wisdom – but wonder and beauty and truth and humor for sure.

I’m thrilled with my new home here on Substack and happy to welcome both old friends and new readers to join in our dogged pursuit of serenity. I’m Susie Middleton, by the way. Cookbook author, obsessive grower of flowers and vegetables, former editor of Fine Cooking magazine and current editor of cookthevineyard.com (and a few other Vineyard Gazette Media Group products). I live on the island of Martha’s Vineyard year-round.

And I’m 16 years sober.

Navigating sobriety is pretty much what I do every day, and I do it by spending a lot of time with plants since they are so much less complicated than people. I’m only half-joking. I am, as many of you know, at long last married to the absolute right person for me. (Check out that cute one-year anniversary cake!) I have dear friends, sober pals, and swell co-workers.

But I’ve learned that spending time outside in nature and working on creative projects are not optional for me. I need the focus to calm my anxieties and restlessness. There are a billion solutions and revelations waiting in the garden, in the woods and fields, along the trails and over the dunes. And yes, in the kitchen.

Recently I’ve been stuck inside. Don’t laugh but I have to tell you that I’ve been walking around in circles — in the house. Our very small house. I start in the downstairs bedroom, walk down the hall past our closet-sized kitchen, through the plant-laden breakfast room and the awkward living room to the front door (tag, you’re it). Then I turn, loop around the dog’s couch, and retrace my steps on the worn oak floors splattered with mismatched throw rugs. I do this over and over again.

I was sick for two weeks in December and couldn’t risk walking outside in the freezing cold. But I had set a goal of 10,000 steps a day back in October and didn’t want to lose ground.

Truthfully, I like walking around in circles – I find it soothing.

In the fall of 2006 when I was crazy-out-of-my-mind trying to quit drinking, I found myself in San Francisco on a business trip. I’d flown out to a conference in the Napa Valley (great place for someone trying to stop drinking) having strung together several days of abstinence. The moment I arrived at the winery for the opening night festivities, I picked up a glass of wine. And then another. Etc. I was crushed.

By the time I got to San Francisco a few days later I was despondent. There is nothing so hair-rippingly maddening as watching yourself pick up a drink when you know with all your heart that you shouldn’t. And the stopping and starting and stopping is simply brutal.

That night I was staying in Cow Hollow at a motor inn I called the No Pillow; its best feature its proximity to the Marina District and Pacific Heights. To escape the four walls, I ventured out and tucked into a dark bistro, ostensibly to feed myself but mostly to drink my dinner. Afterwards I wandered uphill, block after steep block, and heard singing coming from a small, white stucco church. I slipped inside and sat in a back pew in silence.

The next morning before my flight I drove my rental car up to Nob Hill, parked, and climbed the steps to Grace Cathedral. I walked around their labyrinth. I don’t know why. Now I know that walking a labyrinth is a form of spiritual centering, a way to tap into that power that lifts you up. But back then, my center and I were not acquainted with each other. It was as if layers of fetid swaddling separated us. I was looking for the courage to unravel the bandages, but I hadn’t found it yet.

That morning, I reached the center of the labyrinth with only the same tired and useless resolve I’d muttered day after day after day.

These days the soothing rhythm of walking in circles has a magical way of decluttering my hard drive, spinning detritus into the universe like a centrifuge.  

My head lines up with my heart. I start to dream up crazy ideas like rebooting my newsletter.

And so here we are, you and me.

What’s the Plan?

This time (she says with resolve!), I will plan to be in touch with you every two weeks (if you are a free subscriber!) with an essay or story, resources, and photographs (of course). I’m looking forward to telling you about the online Floret Flower Workshop I’m taking and how the plans are evolving for a hoop house and a market garden. (Yes, I am crazy.) And so much more.

Additionally, I’ve been advised to offer a paid subscription right from the get-go, and frankly I’m tickled by the creative opportunity that offers. It will give me a chance to curate something I’ll call the Sidebar – short bits about what I’m reading, planting, eating, listening to, drawing and dreaming; tips, resources and more. Each Sidebar will include a sixburnersue recipe. I’ll use the other two weeks in the month to get a Sidebar or two and/or another essay out to paid subscribers.

We’ll see how that all goes and carry on from there. I’d be grateful if you’d join me.  

- Susie

P.S. Those of you who were former Sixburnersue subscribers are getting this email automatically. I understand completely if you unsubscribe; I thank you profusely if you upgrade to a paid subscription.

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