Letter 1: Begin afresh, afresh, afresh

When we turn the corner together

We are so glad you are here!

Molly and Emily created The Learning Curve as a place for women to share curiosities, joys, and learnings through story. In our weekly newsletter, you will hear from a collection of contributors about womanhood, passions, and awareness. We will also share our favorite things that get us through each day—the small joys in life, which buoy us along the way.

The Trees

by Philip Larkin

The trees are coming into leaf 

Like something almost being said; 

The recent buds relax and spread, 

Their greenness is a kind of grief. 

Is it that they are born again 

And we grow old? No, they die too, 

Their yearly trick of looking new 

Is written down in rings of grain. 

Yet still the unresting castles thresh 

In fullgrown thickness every May. 

Last year is dead, they seem to say, 

Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

To some it may feel redundant to discuss the distresses of 2020. My list of what I’ll remember from last year grows daily as I still jot down details I never want to forget: groceries left in garages to sanitize; sidewalks filled with neighborhood families I’d never seen before; the painful racial reckoning issued with one man’s plea for his mother; and the ever-present, staggeringly terrifying numbers climbing, climbing. This year of sadness—the beginning of covid, coupled with political chasms and racial unrest—changed us and forever altered how we will perceive our recent history.

One of the myriad things the stark coldness of the last year shoved into focus for me was a deep desire to find a creative outlet to foster community for women. Quite simply, women in the United States (as well as globally) were hit by a meteor in 2020. Forced out of work at staggering levels, pushed to juggle innumerable burdens at home between their families, workloads, finances, and mental health, women need support and love now more than ever. While we all still suffer the continued grief for those whom covid has taken (and still takes), it’s apparent that women who come out of this wreckage are in the worst shape of all.

Throughout the fall of 2020, an idea kept poking at me, keeping me awake at night. I (Molly) felt the call to create a shared community through women’s stories in a way that feels manageable and real. I wanted to find an outlet for us to come together and share joys, sorrows, and secrets to help us understand that we are more alike than we are different. I trust Mary Oliver when she wrote,

“The most regretful people on earth are those who felt the call to creative work, who felt their own creative power restive and uprising, and gave to it neither power nor time.”

And while social media is a sparkling, fresh window, it often lacks the depth and grit that can stick to us after we pick ourselves back up each morning.

When I reached out to Emily in the first weeks of 2021 about this newsletter concept, I knew that even though we were in the darkest winter in which I’ve ever lived, we could start something new together to help others turn a corner. The Learning Curve was then born. We want this to be a place where we feel that “compassion is knowing our darkness well enough that we can sit in the dark with others,” as Pema Chodron offers.

Emily and I, both former high school English teachers, were lucky enough to connect via a blog a few years ago; we hit it off and stayed in touch. We are both now out of the classroom and eager to find new ways to build community creatively, which is one part of what we both loved about teaching. In our weekly letters, you will hear from many different women, contributors from all over the United States, sharing parts of their lives, their beliefs, and some favorite things—maybe an ask for help or some words of wisdom that keep them whole. 

It’s important to note that this isn’t a place for just one type of woman. All are welcome; there’s no “type” here. We are just women, of all ages and ethnicities, sharing each other’s journeys to connect us and support one another after the hard year-long winter of 2020.

Perhaps this will be a place of rest for you. Maybe with your morning coffee or an afternoon break, you can read about other women who may look and sound different from you, but who quite likely share similar struggles and worries. Along with our stories, we will share lighter parts of our days that buoy us, be them a Trader Joe’s secret or our favorite new podcast episode, a social justice advocate doing great work, or a song that we can’t stop dancing to in the kitchen while we make dinner. 

We ask that you read, soak it in, and participate. We want to hear your comments about the stories we share, offer tips for other women who may never have considered your perspective, and laugh alongside us. You’ll find our stories here each week in your email inbox, along with some reminders on Instagram.

“Last year is dead,” thank goodness. Let us begin this season with fresh eyes and a renewed perspective. Let us come here to usher in a new spring, together.

With gratitude,

Molly + Emily

P.S. What are you most excited about as routine life starts to blossom again? Please let us know! Share your thoughts with us in the comments or simply reply to this email.