on welcoming places

I arrived in Bath last week Monday, but it took a few days to settle: I was greeted by a malfunctioning heater (it was so cold). I only had one day to unpack and then re-pack, before I was off to Belfast to speak at a conference, and then I was only there for 24 hours. So it’s been a bit of a whirlwind. But finally, I returned, the heater was fixed and I ventured out of the house.

It was overcast and chilly — quintessential English weather — but it wasn’t raining, so I was grateful. Bath is known for being a beautiful city — it’s a UNESCO World Heritage Site, after all — but I don’t think my mood was because of its charm.

(Okay, maybe because of its charm. A building dressed up as a giant Christmas gift? Come on.)

I was in a great mood because it was a change of scenery.

I was in a great mood because this, too, is my neighbourhood, where the woman at the radiator store commiserated with me about the US election, and ended our conversation with a cheery, “Well, welcome to Bath!” And where the woman in the local yarn shop — without my asking — clued me in on the best baker in town to get sourdough bread. And where the sweet young bartender invited me and Marcus to join her for the art class she leads in the event space on the second floor of the pub: in her upcoming session she’ll be teaching how to make watercolour Christmas cards. She says she’ll even recommend the best printer in town so that we could make sure we’re able to send our works of art to loved ones.

In other words, I was in a great mood because I felt welcome. And after the last who-knows-how-long in a country that is beginning to feel more and more unwelcoming, it felt like a balm. It felt like refuge.

Marcus and Alex will be joining me this week. This, too, will feel healing.

So my wish for all of us as the holidays approach: that we take a moment to consider the places and people that feel healing, and we make a plan to connect with them at some point as the year comes to an end. May we find spaces where we feel welcome. May this be an intentional act of self-compassion.

Because sometimes we need to find refuge, even if it takes a bit of intention to make it happen. Because this sort of self-compassion is how we gather our strength, lovelies. Because refuge is where comfort and inspiration and creativity can be born.

And let’s face it: we could all use more comfort, inspiration and creativity.