In a Word with Jacey Verdicchio

Welcome to the companion podcast to the In A Word newsletter!

How to listen:

You can hit the play button above to listen on your desktop.

OR you can listen in your podcast app by clicking “listen in podcast app.” A link will be emailed to you. Open the link on your phone and it will add In A Word to your podcast app like magic!

Instead of the typical themed issue, today I’m sharing a trio of poems about my birth and mothering experiences as we head into Mother’s Day weekend.

Traditionally, Mother’s Day has been interpreted in a fairly narrow way, leaving some excluded. While motherhood is worth honoring, I wish that we did a better job of celebrating the life givers in our midst. People are giving birth every day to art and ideas. People are sustaining and nurturing life in hospitals and homeless shelters, on crisis hotlines and basketball court sidelines.

I do not mean to dilute the role of a mother, but to remember how many ways there are to take care, nurture, and give life. I love that we honor the work mothers do. I also think mothering work, broadly applied, is desperately needed throughout our communities. We need people who mend, nurture and sacrifice more than ever.

Thanks for listening!

If you like In a Word, please share it!

Forward this email to a friend, or take a screenshot of your favorite part to share on Instagram. (Tag me @jaceyverdicchio and use hashtag #inawordnewsletter)!

Welcome to the companion podcast to the In A Word newsletter!

How to listen:

You can hit the play button above to listen on your desktop.

OR you can listen in your podcast app by clicking “listen in podcast app.” A link will be emailed to you. Open the link on your phone and it will add In A Word to your podcast app like magic!

This is not a typical episode. This is me, reaching out in the midst of unprecedented times. I tend to process by writing, so I’m just here to offer what I’ve been thinking and writing. And of course, a benediction.

In this episode, I’m reading “Heroic Homebodies,” and sharing the things we’re watching and reading during this time at home.

Thanks for listening, and please take care.

If you like In a Word, please share it!

Forward this email to a friend, or take a screenshot of your favorite part to share on Instagram. (Tag me @jaceyverdicchio and use hashtag #inawordnewsletter)!

Welcome to the companion podcast to the In A Word newsletter!

How to listen:

You can hit the play button above to listen on your desktop.

OR you can listen in your podcast app by clicking “listen in podcast app.” A link will be emailed to you. Open the link on your phone and it will add In A Word to your podcast app like magic!

This is Episode 11: listen.

In this episode, I’m sharing a piece called Listening Is A Love Language, and a closing benediction. Meet me back in your inbox to explore the rest of the collection!

If you like In a Word, please share it!

Forward this email to a friend, or take a screenshot of your favorite part to share on Instagram. (Tag me @jaceyverdicchio and use hashtag #inawordnewsletter)!

Welcome to the companion podcast to the In A Word newsletter!

How to listen:

You can hit the play button above to listen on your desktop.

OR you can listen in your podcast app by clicking “listen in podcast app.” A link will be emailed to you. Open the link on your phone and it will add In A Word to your podcast app like magic!

This is Episode Ten: subtract.

In this episode, I’m sharing an essay called Cardboard Graveyard (about what I’m giving up for Lent), a poem called Gravity (about confidence dwarfed by an arbitrary number), and a closing benediction. Meet me back in your inbox to explore the rest of the collection!

As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts on anything this issue calls to mind for you. Simply respond to this email to let me know.

Gratefully, Jacey

If you like In a Word, please share it!

Forward this email to a friend, or take a screenshot of your favorite part to share on Instagram. (Tag me @jaceyverdicchio and use hashtag #inawordnewsletter)!

Welcome to the companion podcast to the In A Word newsletter!

How to listen:

You can hit the play button above to listen on your desktop.

OR you can listen in your podcast app by clicking “listen in podcast app.” A link will be emailed to you. Open the link on your phone and it will add In A Word to your podcast app like magic!

This is episode nine: heart.

In this episode, I’m sharing an essay called Paper Heart, a poem called Sleep Training, and a closing benediction. Meet me back in your inbox to explore the rest of the collection!

As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts on anything this issue calls to mind for you. Simply respond to this email to let me know.

Gratefully, Jacey

If you like In a Word, please share it!

Forward this email to a friend, or take a screenshot of your favorite part to share on Instagram. (Tag me @jaceyverdicchio and use hashtag #inawordnewsletter)!

Welcome to the companion podcast to the In A Word newsletter!

How to listen:

You can hit the play button above to listen on your desktop.

OR you can listen in your podcast app by clicking “listen in podcast app.” A link will be emailed to you. Open the link on your phone and it will add In A Word to your podcast app like magic!

This is episode eight: plan.

In this episode, I’m sharing some thoughts (and angst) about the new year, and a closing benediction. Meet me back in your inbox to explore the rest of the collection!

As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts on anything this issue calls to mind for you. Simply respond to this email to let me know.

Gratefully, Jacey

If you like In a Word, please share it!

Forward this email to a friend, or take a screenshot of your favorite part to share on Instagram. (Tag me @jaceyverdicchio and use hashtag #inawordnewsletter)!

Welcome to the companion podcast to the In A Word newsletter!

How to listen:

You can hit the play button above to listen on your desktop.

OR you can listen in your podcast app by clicking “listen in podcast app.” A link will be emailed to you. Open the link on your phone and it will add In A Word to your podcast app like magic!

This is episode seven: attention.

In this episode, I’m sharing an essay about attention investment, a poem about memory keeping and two benedictions. Meet me back in your inbox to explore the rest of the collection, including some fantastic articles.

As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts on anything this issue calls to mind for you. Simply respond to this email to let me know.

Gratefully, Jacey

If you like In a Word, please share it!

Forward this email to a friend, or take a screenshot of your favorite part to share on Instagram. (Tag me @jaceyverdicchio and use hashtag #inawordnewsletter)!

Hey y’all,

In place of a typical issue, today I’m sharing something I made for you, and for me: 7 Ways to Cultivate Contentment. (Press the play button or click “listen in podcast app” above for the audio version.)

Contentment is deeper than happiness, and broader than joy. We all want it, but pursuing it feels counterintuitive. If we chase the feeling of not needing to chase things, are we like dogs chasing our tails? Contentment isn’t yet another to-do list item we can check off. It is not to be attained, but cultivated. But how?

I’m no expert, but I’ve got some things I use in my contentment practice that you might consider adding to yours. I made this guide because I needed some practical reminders of things to do when I get pulled into the vortex of discontentment.

First, I want to be honest with you. I’ve been sitting on this for months. I started to wonder: is it morally irresponsible to be content when there is so much in the world that needs repairing? Is contentment a cop-out? A head-in-the-sand privilege?

When I think of contentment, I don’t mean living in a bubble and suspending empathy. I don’t mean crafting a life that includes everything I want, so I no longer want. Too often, the small things I chase to feel whole distract me from big, weighty pursuits.

Or, as C.S. Lewis puts it in The Weight of Glory,

“…it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”

Perhaps we can get to the real work when we aren’t perpetually spinning to overcome some deficiency in ourselves or our circumstances. We do not have to prove our worth or earn our right to be here. In fact, we can’t. Our lives have been given to us by our Creator. So are we going to waste time wringing our hands over what we lack?

Some days, probably. The bulk of my last week was spent doing just that. I looked at unkempt corners of my home and felt disgust. I looked in dusty corners of my heart and felt contempt. It was embarrassing, how quickly my soul shrank into a Chihuahua quivering in a thunderstorm.

While I was trying not to pee myself in a corner, metaphorically, I worried that this guide doesn’t say anything we don’t already know. Well, it doesn’t. Because even though it isn’t easy, contentment isn’t complicated.

It’s a practice, not a formula, and cultivating it will be a lifelong project. If we assume it should come naturally and berate ourselves when it doesn’t, discontent will eat us alive. It will serve as a perpetual distraction from the real work. If we consider it too beneath the Big Problems in our world, it won’t stop affecting us. It will just be insidious, beneath the surface, sabotaging our every move.

I’d have sent this sooner if not for all my handwringing, but now feels just about perfect. Thanksgiving is right around the corner, and we could probably all do with a minute to stand still and bear witness to the good unfolding around us.

If you like the guide, I would be so grateful if you shared it!

Feel free to use these images or the phone wallpapers for easy sharing on social media. Tag me @jaceyverdicchio so that I can thank you, and possibly re-share! (New In A Word subscribers will get the guide in their welcome email, so you can point them towards the sign up.)

I’ll randomly choose someone who shares this week (11/5 - 11/11) to send my favorite fall candle! (Who doesn’t feel more content in the glow of a candle?)

Shoutout to Erin at Primavera Studio for her beautiful design work!

May we have eyes to see the beauty in our midst, arms to embrace our proximate people, feet planted where we are, and hands ready to do good, here and now.

Some links in this email are affiliate links, which means if you use them and buy something, I’ll earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. Thank you for supporting my work!

Welcome to In a Word, a newsletter that cultivates thoughtfulness, one word at a time. If a friend forwarded you this email, click the button to subscribe:

Hey there!

I recently shared some thoughts on perfectionism on Instagram. I’d had a rough week or so, in my own head. I hesitated to share about it, because it feels so navel-gazey and self indulgent to wax on about how I cannot cope in the midst of my very good and #blessed existence.

But this has been one of my most masochistic tendencies around perfectionism—to heap it onto the pile of things I berate myself for: why can’t you stop being so hard on yourself? Feeling bad for feeling bad has never made me feel better. And crippling anxiety and upheaval that starts in my own mind is still crippling.

So I shared that post when I genuinely thought I was coming out of it. But I kept feeling retroactive dread, which is how I define feeling regret, but combined with fear about what the regrettable thing means. (A thoughtless comment becomes a referendum on my character, a hyperbolized fear that no one will ever confide in me again.)

While this anxiety maelstrom was happening in my gut (and often spilling over to unsuspecting innocents in my life), I was trying to work on a project related to this newsletter. But you know what doesn’t pair well with creative work? An outsized fear of mistakes, and what those mistakes will mean.

Perhaps it will not surprise you that I wanted to crawl in bed every time I tried to work on it. And that the phrase, “I tender my resignation from the internet” crossed my mind every couple hours. It’s embarrassing to admit, but that’s how I felt.

I wasn’t going to release an issue today, because I’d spent all my writing time buried under myself. But then the word retrospect came to mind. It’s commonly accepted that “hindsight is 20/20,” but it’s not, not always. In the midst of a perfectionism flare up, hindsight lies to me. It paints the past in a self-focused light that paralyzes me from moving forward. I’m so grateful to be in the flow of creativity again, however flawed the product. Thanks for joining me in diving backwards this week.

PS. Listen to In A Word’s companion podcast here, or by using the play button or “listen in podcast app” link above.

In this issue, you’ll find a toast to the past, followed by a retrospective collection, and a closing benediction.

A Toast—

To all the plans that went awry, to all the roads not taken. To the romances that blew up, and the business ideas that didn’t.

To the false starts and failures that lit my cheeks on fire. To bright ideas that flickered out, to tear-stained rejection letters and unrequited crushes.⁣ ⁣

To the unfinished drafts and unkept promises. To unseen dangers bypassed, and treasures I only recognized as fool’s gold once they’d passed me by. To goals that turned my knuckles white before I knew to let them go.⁣⁣

Here’s to all I ever wanted, and didn’t get. I wouldn’t trade now for all the ever-afters I imagined, and so I toast them for leading me here.

Recursion probes the same themes as Stephen King’s 11/22/63 (about a man trying to retroactively prevent the assassination of JFK) but more compellingly and in half the pages.

The recently released 1619 Project is a somber, evocative reckoning with the impact of slavery in America over the 400 years since the first ship carrying enslaved Africans landed on our shores. I’ve been listening to the audio series. (Novelist Jesmyn Ward’s piece at the end of episode two is particularly stunning.)

Girl, Disrupted: Anna Weiner reflects on her four years working in the start-ups.

Hello Forgetfulness; Hello Mother: An aging writer reflects on her mother’s decline, and her own.

Some last links worth a click:

* In Retrospect, The Theme for Chad’s 4th Birthday Party Should Not Have Been “Stanford Prison Experiment”

* The 25 Most Important Characters of the Past 25 Years

May the past be our teacher, but never our master.

May we look back to see what’s keeping us from moving forward. If we find painful words reverberating off the cave walls of a dark memory, may we begin the work of letting them go. May we no longer be shrunk, defined, or imprisoned by someone else’s projected pain.

May we take heart while fumbling through foggy days, thirsting for clarity. When our eyes strain to see what’s ahead, our feet are learning to move through the vapor of uncertainty. Beyond our quest to be like gods—all knowing, all seeing—is the very hand of God, outstretched to meet ours.

As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts on anything this issue calls to mind for you. Simply respond to this email to let me know.

Gratefully, Jacey

If you like In a Word, please share it!

Forward this email to a friend, or take a screenshot of your favorite part to share on Instagram. (Tag me @jaceyverdicchio and use hashtag #inawordnewsletter)!

Some links in this email are affiliate links, which means if you use them and buy something, I’ll earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. Thank you for supporting my work!

Welcome to In a Word, a newsletter that cultivates thoughtfulness, one word at a time. If a friend forwarded you this email, click the button to subscribe:

Hey there!

Here we are, a day into fall, a week from turning the corner into October. A friend told me last week that September is one of the hardest months of the year for people (based on spikes in suicide rates and depression). If you’re struggling, I hope you know you’re not alone.

Quick reminder: In A Word now has a companion podcast!

You can listen by hitting the play button at the top of the email, or by clicking the “Listen in podcast app” link below the play button. (Make sure to click the link from your phone if you want to listen in your podcast app.) The podcast gives me space to share more thoughts that don’t fit in this already lengthy newsletter. Join me there for even more cultivated thoughtfulness!

In this issue, we’re exploring the word “better.” For optimists, optimizers and idealists, the idea that things can always get better is full of hope. In some cases, we must come to terms with things that won’t get better. In others, we must train our eyes to see minuscule drops of grace and tiny steps forward. This theme has a lot for us to ponder, so let’s dive in!

In this issue, you’ll find a essay about how Trader Joe’s has made me a better person, followed by a better collection, and a closing benediction.

I have never seen a cart rack in a Trader Joe’s parking lot, yet I have scarcely seen an abandoned cart. Certain grocery stores require a quarter deposit to use a cart, appealing to cold, monetary interests—return your cart, get your quarter back. Other stores, also honest about the human tendency towards laziness and entropy, simply pay an employee to corral the carts.

At Trader Joe’s, I wouldn’t dare set a bag of Ghost Pepper chips I changed my mind about (when I remember that I have the heat tolerance of an edamame bean) in some random aisle. Why is that?

When you are treated like a human, you act like a human. We can either live by the rule that high expectations will always disappoint us, or we can live in the world of Trader Joe’s.

Joe has surveyed the land, from a magical warehouse in Monrovia, the only warehouse in the history of ever with flattering lighting, probably. (Make no mistake, THERE ARE PEANUTS PROCESSED IN THIS FACILITY, but Joe always warns you and keeps an Epi pen in his smock pocket, right next to the Everlasting Gobstoppers.)

Joe has watched us retreat from neighborhood groceries. He has watched us sort ourselves into smaller and smaller echo chambers. He has watched us let ourselves and each other down. He’s seen it all, and he’s bet on our better nature. Trader Joe’s goes above and beyond in the hopes that we, the customers, and society, will, too.

Here are just a handful of ways Trader Joe’s has made me a better person:

* I’m more adventurous. By nature, I’m a routine oriented person, content to eat the same breakfast every day. But over the years I’ve ventured to try cookie butter (okay so maybe that was no risky wager), healthy spinach dip, thai chili dusted almonds, and chips made from peas, sweet potatoes, beets, (even godforsaken corn). Joe has convinced me to go out on a limb time and time again, with his ridiculous no-questions-asked return policy.

* I’ve joined the plant lady ranks. My first foray into houseplants was an impulse buy at Trader Joe’s. I couldn’t resist the Easter Lily, nestled in its festively wrapped plastic pot, $6.99 a price low enough to risk. Now I’ve got potted plants everywhere, cleaning the  dirty diaper and dog scented air of my home.

* I’ve become a “just because” gift giver. Mini bouquets, small boxes of truffles and seasonal candles make it easy to pick up a pick-me-up for a friend in the midst of a weekly grocery trip.

* I am more kind to the earth. Reusable bags became a fixture in my backseat because TJ’s makes them so vibrant and appealing. (I may also have been enticed by the gift card drawing for bag bringers, though I’ve been entering for 15 years and have yet to win.)

Sure, after years of use, the bottom may be stained with blueberry juice (or likely something more sinister, but no one’s gotten E. Coli, so it’s fine). Still, their bright patterns are irresistible, checkout after checkout.

* I’ve reclaimed the virtues of small talk. Trader Joe’s employees make conversation, but not to upsell you something you don’t want. It’s more of a, “hey human, I, a fellow human, see you, and acknowledge your humanity. And yes, I would love to show you where we moved the Clif bars,” vibe.

More often than not, I see someone I know while shopping. In another store I might feel tempted to turn the other way, especially if the interaction poses a high awkwardness risk. But in TJ’s, I’m infected by a largesse of spirit, remembering names and kissing babies like a politician. It’s refreshing not to be anonymous in a public space, even if it’s uncomfortable.

I may be an idealist, but even I can admit the limitations of an inexplicably Hawaiian branded grocery store to change the wider culture. But for a blissful 30 minutes a week, an errand becomes an adventure as I enter this oasis of creative samples and lighthearted customer service.

If we can stop leaving carts in the parking lot likes monsters, what else can we accomplish? Surely we can solve healthcare. Or at least deliver a Trader Joe’s bag of sustenance to a sick friend’s doorstep.  

Follow me on Instagram for weekly TJ’s finds. They won’t help you with your meal plan, but they might make your day.

Athleisure, Barre, and Kale: The Tyranny of the Ideal Woman:

“These days, it is perhaps even more psychologically seamless than ever for an ordinary woman to spend her life walking toward the idealized mirage of her own self-image.”

Better Than Before is Gretchen Rubin’s book dedicated to habit change. Her suggestions are practical, easy to implement, and research-based. She also offers these great one-page resources to download, like “The Better Than Before Habits Manifesto.” #5 particularly caught my attention: “Things often get harder before they get easier.”

A sister grapples with how to help her brother struggling with mental illness:

One day his caseworker said to me: “What you need to understand is that he’s not going to be ‘fixed.’ He’ll have good days and bad days. He’s trying. But don’t ever forget that he is a person. He isn’t just an illness.”

As a new (somewhat skeptical) user of the Calm app, I was delighted by My New Meditation App Makes Me Feel So Much Better Than You:

“Using the app changed the relationship I have with my iPhone X. After examining my deepest intentions, I decided to upgrade.”

A few weeks ago, my friend had the flu. I didn’t have time to cook her a meal, but I picked up these favorites from Trader Joe’s for her. (I also included a couple cups of ramen that TJ’s now sells and she said those were “the ultimate sick food,” so keep that in your back pocket, too.)

A few last links worth a click:

* Joy the Baker teaches us how to be better bakers

* Why does wine get better with age?

* “No card can make this better” card for the occasions when you don’t know what to say

* Song lyric print of Jack Johnson’s “Better Together”

May we celebrate three steps forward, even as we take one back. Progress is praiseworthy, however small. May we sense the unquantifiable—the progress we cannot chart on a graph, but know in our bones.

May we remember that we are more than our output, that we are human by design, not by defect. May we refuse to morph into robotic imitations of ourselves, chasing wholeness through time management apps and productivity hacks.

May we opt out of optimization when we find our humanity, our joy, and our healing hang in the balance.

As always, I’d also love to hear your thoughts on anything this issue calls to mind for you. Simply respond to this email to let me know.

Gratefully, Jacey

If you like In a Word, please share it!

Forward this email to a friend, or take a screenshot of your favorite part to share on Instagram. (Tag me @jaceyverdicchio and use hashtag #inawordnewsletter)!

Some links in this email are affiliate links, which means if you use them and buy something, I’ll earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. Thank you for supporting my work!