I've been noticing something lately - a lot of my friends are going through major life changes right now, at the beginning of their 40s. Relationships ending, careers shifting, old patterns breaking down. At first I thought it was just coincidence, but then I realized: we're the first generation with widespread access to mental health care. Not just for the wealthy or the educated elite, but actually available and culturally acceptable. We're doing the work our parents' generation couldn't or didn't do. We're unraveling things that previous generations just... lived with.

So when I tell you January was a month of moving and grieving and rebuilding, know that it's part of that bigger story.

What January Actually Looked Like

I moved. I grieved. And I wasn't in the space to make the way I wanted to. But I made sure to give my brain what it needed to stay inspired and develop ideas - because that's how you keep your sanity when the making isn't flowing.

I joined a gym. 5:30am. Lifting weights for the first time since leaving NYC in 2018. My new situation meant my daily fitness routine no longer worked the way it needed to, so I adapted. There's something about being in a shared space with other people choosing to show up and do hard things before dawn - a quiet solidarity I didn't know I needed.

Books and Listening

I spent most of December and early January trudging through Mother Hunger by Kelly McDaniel. Finished it January 10th. It took a lot out of me.

I wasn't sure what I wanted or needed after that. Then on New Year's Eve, I was at a Great Gatsby event at Book Society in Berkeley - by myself - and I overheard someone talking about The Correspondent by Virginia Evans. I already had a book about cults in my hand that I was buying, but that title stuck with me. I started reading it and it was exactly the imaginary place I needed to immerse myself in for the next few weeks.

I also picked up The Book of Alchemy by Suleika Jaouad on January 11th because the cover was calling to me. While reading it I realized I'd read her previous book, Between Two Kingdoms, at a very different time in my life - a hard book then, watching someone's very young life disrupted by illness. I didn't finish The Book of Alchemy - the journaling prompts weren't what I needed - but I liked the idea of 30-day projects. Something to potentially try in the future. And just now, while writing this, I looked her up and recognized her from the Jon Batiste documentary American Symphony - I had no idea that was her in it. His passion and music in that film are so palpable. That wedding scene - simple, perfect, exactly them.

Sometimes the woo-woo of the universe really does sneak in there if you listen to it. I'll always believe that a little bit after the profound effect reading The Alchemist had on me in 2025.

(Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl also got picked up on January 10th and didn't finish. Sometimes books are for right now, and sometimes they're not.)

What Fed the Work

My metalsmithing class at Richmond Art Center started this month. The teacher's name is Ricki - which somehow delights me so much - and I showed up late to the first class, which I NEVER do. But I was instantly welcomed into this small group of 6 other women and Ricki, a large goofy man full of positive teaching energy.

I learned about annealing. The process of heating up metal to make it more malleable. We're using copper right now and I got to LIGHT IT ON FIRE. So cool. And then you quench it - you literally throw it into water and it makes this crazy sound and is INSTANTLY cool to the touch. So neat. We mostly practiced what we needed to notice with the metals as we were lighting them, then noodled around with hammering stamps and such.

It was such an inspiring space to be in. Can't wait to light more metal on fire.

Museums. Color palettes. Material research. I became obsessed with a particular shade of smoky blue. I documented everything in Milanote even when I couldn't execute anything.

It was towards the end of the month when things started to get slightly more in a rhythm again. That's when I was actually able to bring things to life - not force them, but let them emerge when the space opened up.

What's Next

February. Open space. That smoky blue color still living in my head. Studio unpacked and functional. Body and brain both back in rhythm.

The work continues.

—Jem