[UPDATE: dance your way to the bottom of this post for the latest update(s) on my application letter]
You likely don't know Ann. I don't know her either. I do enjoy reading her weekly newsletter, though. Maybe you read – or want to read! – her newsletter, too? She is taking applications for a second run of her new writing fellowship. And I'm applying!
I started typing the application letter as a draft here, mainly because writing comes easily to me here in this digital spot. As I was typing, I realized that sharing the letter with you might be fun and actually supportive of what I'm doing here... and what I'm hoping we're going to do here as we evolve into this new year.
I still need to condense it to a page (it's almost two right now).
Want to give me a tip on what to keep or what to cut? Send me a note (before I submit my application on 1/14/22) at cassandra@bewithcassandra.com.
Ann's ask is this:
Write me a letter, no longer than one page. Tell me who you are, what you’re interested in, and what your goals are. Tell me about the work you’re currently doing and the work you want to do in 2022. Please focus on what you want to create, not the attention you hope it will garner, and be as specific as you can. (For example: Tell me what you want to write a newsletter about, not how many subscribers you hope that newsletter will attract. Tell me about an organizer you want to profile, not that you want to “write about social justice.”) Your submission does not have to be in formal cover-letter format—just write to me, human to human.
[DRAFT #1 PUBLISHED 01/05/22]
Dear Ann Friedman,
Hello! Wow, thank you for making this opportunity happen. I'm excited about the prospect of learning with / from you and another fellow.
I'm writing to you from a pretty much snowed-in and very hilly neighborhood next to the Puget Sound in Washington state. I live on lands and next to waters tended since time immemorial by the intricate web of Coast Salish tribes.
I am a human whose spent my 32 years here oscillating between deep senses of disconnection and interconnection. I feel woven into nature's fabric as I walk through nearby forests with Ernest – the big wolf-like dog I've called kin the past four years – leaning into massive pine trees, touching moss-covered skin. I dance on the rocky beach next to the ferry terminal. Sometimes, luck arrives and a sea lion pops her head up out of the waves.
I call Z, my elder neighbor friend, to make sure she's okay since the power was out all day Monday. We talk about how we really can't know what someone else is going through because, as she says, "I don't know how deep your ocean is."
The past two years, I've been delving into this hunch that it's the intentional process of co-creating something that actually fulfills our deep-set need for connection. It could be co-creating a podcast, a mural, a soccer game, a forest den, a workshop... Of course, longer term co-creation endeavors exist too, like co-creating a family though these shorter term coming-togethers are more intriguing to me at this moment in time. Perhaps because they allow for more fluidity for us individually and collectively.
Co-creation is distinct from collaboration and cooperation. Sure, these play a part in the act of co-creation but co-creation embraces the whole process from idea seed to finished product (or at least an iteration of it). By the end, it's likely no longer possible to distinguish who added what but everyone comes out of the experience fuller and more human.
I'm deeply curious about other's yearnings for the co-creation experience and their felt experiences with it.
I'm stepping into offering guidance and opportunities to fellow humans who, like me, seek to nurture themselves and their relationships by infusing them with intentional acts of co-creation.
I'm starting a digital publication centered on co-creation. The written word will be the foundation, with a monthly email to subscribers documenting the behind-the-scenes co-creation process between guest contributors and myself. Who the guest contributors are, what we co-create together, and the chosen medium will shift on a seasonal basis. I imagine cross-pollination amongst and between subscribers and guest contributors.
A friend and colleague builds beautiful fires whenever I go over to his home. One season I envision spending the day together, filming him build different types of fires. Later that day, I picture getting on Zoom together and hosting a gathering with subscribers talking about community-building and nurturing techniques we all could learn and enact sitting around our own fire circles. Now this is what I individually imagine, I wish for him to build on these ideas, weaving in his own visions, bringing others into the mix to make it actually come alive.
Early 2021, I started two email newsletters, one with the name 'experiments in belonging' and the other 'Well-Resourced.' I wrote Well-Resourced for "humans who care about and for young children." I instigated multiple 'experiments in belonging' and wrote about them. I called without needing a call back. I have become a 'change matchmaker.' Other experiments, too.
I now write through my weekly Be With Cassandra newsletter (and here we are 😉), kind of fusing these two former newsletters. My work supporting children and people who care for children grounds me while my newer work in change, belonging, and co-creation gives me wings.
Once a week, I am out in forests with young children, offering space for child-led flow learning. Our shared time deeply nourishes and influences how I embody belonging, change, and co-creation. I hope this is the case for the children as well.
I want what I'm doing – and intending to do – with co-creation to encourage and facilitate more creative approaches to working and being with one another and within our surroundings. It can totally work to have one person running the show and calling the shots. That said, I believe we need to further hone our co-creation tools in our individual and collective toolboxes to make space for solutions to the many crises we face today.
Thank you for this opportunity. Even if I don't end up being a match for this fellowship, I hope this letter gives way to new connections.
Thank YOU for reading this letter to Ann but really it's also to you. You feel the real grooviness of co-creation... when we've danced together, co-facilitated a workshop, become co-conspirators through a virtual community, or found ourselves in a long conversation in the conference hallways.
Hope the first five days of this already 2wild year have been a little or a lot sweet for you.
Til next time,
Cassandra
[DRAFT #2 PUBLISHED 01/10/22, links cleared in preparation for submitting application]
Dear Ann Friedman,
Wow, thank you for this opportunity. I’m writing to you from a pretty much snowed-in, very hilly neighborhood next to the Puget Sound in Washington state. I live on lands and near waters tended since time immemorial by the intricate web of Coast Salish tribes.
I oscillate between deep senses of disconnection and interconnection. I feel woven into nature's fabric walking through nearby forests with Ernest – the big dog I call kin – leaning into massive pine trees, touching moss-covered skin. I call Z, my elder neighbor friend, to make sure she's okay since the power was out all day Monday. We talk about how we really can't know what another is going through because, as she says, "I don't know how deep your ocean is."
Over the past two years, I've actively pursued this internally long-running hunch that it's the intentional process of co-creating something that can fulfill our deep-set need for connection. Co-creation can embrace the whole process from idea seed to finished product. By the end of the experience, it's indistinguishable who added what but all are now fuller and more human.
I'm deeply curious about others’ felt experiences with co-creation. I'm stepping into offering opportunities to others wishing to infuse their lives with intentional acts of co-creation. This year, I’m starting a digital publication centered on just that. The written word will be the foundation, with a monthly email documenting the behind-the-scenes co-creation process between guest contributors and myself. Who the contributors are, what we co-create, and the chosen medium will shift seasonally. I imagine cross-pollination amongst / between subscribers and contributors.
A friend and colleague builds beautiful fires whenever I visit his home. One season I envision filming him building different types of fires. Later that day, I picture getting on Zoom with subscribers to dialogue about how we can tangibly build community while around our own fire circles. I wish for my friend to weave in his own visions and other folks to make it come alive.
Early 2021, I started two email newsletters. I wrote Well-Resourced for "humans who care about and for young children." And I instigated and wrote about multiple 'experiments in belonging' for my other newsletter. Fusing these themes, I now write my Be With Cassandra newsletter.
Once a week, I am out in forests with children, facilitating flow learning. Our shared time deeply influences how I embody belonging, change, and co-creation. My work supporting children grounds me while my newer work in change, belonging, and co-creation gives me wings.
It can totally work to have one person running the show and calling the shots. That said, I believe we must further imagine and nurture our co-creation tools in our individual and collective toolboxes to make way for solutions to the many crises we face today.
Even if I don't end up being a match for this, I hope this letter gives way to new connections.
Kindly,
Cassandra Ellis