Let Us Be Hopeful Together

Dear Friends,

Yesterday I read a piece in the New York Times in which a restaurant owner writes about shutting down and how it has led her to reckon with her dreams and revisit her purpose.  

With honesty and vulnerability, she acknowledges that the world may no longer need or want what she has to offer, and that she is okay with pausing, waiting, and seeing what will come.

I resonated with her essay because it reflected back to me a lot of my own open questions about the state of our economy and culture, and the incredible challenges of building something small yet sustainable.

I've seen many other small businesses do an amazing job of pivoting to a new model in order to weather this storm... and I've done a lot of comparing/despairing, fretting about not doing enough or not doing the right thing.

The truth is, I really don't know what the best right thing is at the moment.  It's hard to make decisions when nothing makes sense.  Selling clothing during a catastrophe feels pretty weird to me, and yet... I've been working on this business so hard in order to support myself financially...  What are my options?

 I want Farbrook Studio to make it through, but I also don't know what to do next. So, like the chef whose writing inspired me, I'm giving Farbrook Studio permission to just be quiet for a little while. No frantic efforts, no pivoting.  For me, the way forward isn't clear, so I'm focusing on the way now

Now, the online shop is still open for orders, but I'll be making just one or two post office runs per month until New York City re-opens.  The next one will be April 30th.
If you're able to, please consider treating yourself or a loved one.  Mother's day is coming up, and I can ship gifts to any address you choose.  Add a message in the "notes" section of your order, and I'll include a hand-written note.

I'm dreaming of what may be possible when life returns to a more familiar rhythm. I hope that I'll be in a financial position to place orders with local manufacturers. I hope that I'll be able to visit neighborhood studios and share my offerings.  I hope that I'll get to see the smiles and happy bodies that make this project worthwhile to me.  Imagining the preciousness of being together in person is what gives me hope. 
“Hope, in this deep and powerful sense, is not the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously headed for early success, but rather an ability to work for something because it is good, not just because it stands a chance to succeed. The more unpromising the situation in which we demonstrate hope, the deeper that hope is. Hope is not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out. In short, I think that the deepest and most important form of hope, the only one that can keep us above water and urge us to good works, and the only true source of the breathtaking dimension of the human spirit and its efforts, is something we get, as it were, from ‘elsewhere.’ It is also this hope, above all, that gives us the strength to live and continually to try new things, even in conditions that seem as hopeless as ours do, here and now.”
(From Disturbing the Peace by Vaclav Havel)
Let us be hopeful together.
With love,