and there are both no words to carry the weight of this past year, and far too many words than we could put in this newsletter. The fact that we don't have all the words is not a source of frustration, or shame, or inadequacy...it is a reminder that we need one another. We need all kinds of words, from all kinds of people, and we need them then, now, and always.

Running GFJ throughout the years, we continually notice and appreciate how much human connection it is possible to make from behind screens. The words of people who have written to us over the years continue to resonate. Just in the past twelve months, we have made 'email friends' with folks who were complete strangers up to that point. Except that they weren't strangers, really - they already felt connected to us, through our words, and that's what made them reach out. If there is proof that magic is real, this seems like part of it. 

Over this past year, when I haven't had the words, I've wept. I describe those weepy times as when I'm 'feeling watery'. My connection to water reminds me of my connection to the earth and to humanity. It reminds me of the pull of the moon on the tide. It reminds me of defying gravity, feeling weightless, while I float on the great bowl of the ocean. It reminds me of the importance of circles and cycles. 

In grief, there are times when words really matter to us - I'm thinking of how important poetry and music are, and how often they are woven into funeral and memorial services - and there is also a great need for silence. Sometimes when we are grieving, we don't want any words, especially not the ones that tell us that it's time to finish crying, or to move on. Many of us can probably think of a person who gave us their silent, affirming presence through a time that was too difficult for words. 

Each of us has been touched by the pandemic, in one way or another, and some of us would give anything to go backward - to not attend that social gathering, to call that loved one sooner or more often, to have done one or a million other little things to better prepare. We in this small team at GFJ are fortunate to have been focused on going forward, and we'll continue to be grateful to feel called toward change, to have our small corner of power and influence, and to use it alongside you. But today we are pausing, and dwelling in the pause. Not because the rest of the world stops with us, only because we need to stop for a moment and consider all that has been lost.

When we emerge next week we'll hear from a few of the voices of the friends that we've made along the way. A few of the people that made us feel more connected and less alone. We are grateful to live and learn alongside them, and you. 

Yours in food, justice, and food justice,

Dor + Tay