It's a new (birthday) year & new wave
Birthday and publication updates
October 5, 2025
A wave flows across the ground and we call it a caterpillar. It expands in circles and we call it a raindrop. It travels from hot to cold and we call it the seasons. Giving breath to the living and inanimate alike, a wave is not just the path between extremes but the thread that binds them. Without the wave, day and night would fly apart. With the wave there is the promise of harmony. – R. Margolin
Today’s my birthday. 47!
I’m entering the next wave.
Today I’m also in Maui with family, cousins, and friends. We’re here to celebrate my nephew who's getting married and fortuitously the beginning of my forty-eighth year. This island is very special to me. I’ve been coming here, every year, for my entire life. My mother was born here. My grandparents were born here and most of my great-grandparents also. Prior to that my ancestors made the 3-4 month migration from Madeira and the Azores. Now we’re a mix of ethnic histories and the spirit of these islands.
My hope is to spend the morning on the slopes of Haleakalā, taking in the rising sun and surrounding sea.
I’m also writing to let you know of some forthcoming updates—a little holiday, if you will. I’ve been writing a weekly essay for the better part of 4 years. What began as a collection on my blog has evolved into this publication, The Center Piece. Now, as is the case on or around one’s birthday, I’m taking stock of all the inputs and outputs, my strategic next phase, and my reservoir of energy required to maintain the Sunday post.
Upon reflection, writing a weekly essay has honestly been an incredible practice. Not only has it fulfilled my creative mind and spirit, it’s also been quite satisfying from an organizational systems perspective. It requires editorial devotion. And though I’m steadfast on maintaining my publication, I’m reevaluating its cadence. For example, I may shave it down to 3 rather than 4/month. It’s never been about churning our more stuff. In fact, that’s the antithesis of my ethos and guiding principles.
There are weeks, even months where I’m on fire. I’ll have essays written and scheduled well in advance. The opposite is also true. If you are a writer or artist of any kind, you know. It is a practice. One I adore, am challenged by, and will remain utterly devoted to but a practice nonetheless. However, as with any artform, I’m resolving to be a little less strict. If for nothing else my sanity and to heed my own advice. Slow down.
I started feeling the strain in early September. Managing the Editorial Direction for a few clients while cranking out a weekly essay made them feel lean, even rushed. In the big picture, it is what it is. One can rework and tweak something forever. At some point it has to be done! Publish. Send. Onward.
I take my work seriously and don’t want to publish just to publish. The Center Piece was never intended to be the proverbial round-up of recommendations of ‘all the things I’m doing or like’. (Considering I live pretty simply and am a colorful minimalist, it’s a short list). I will continue to share artists, writers, and thinkers who impress, take my breath away, or move the cultural needle.
In the end, I want to explore deeply, write thoughtfully, and restore a sense of connection—that feeling I have with myself, others, and the world around me when I’m actually relaxed. May this publication be a space for stirring topics. Ones of heart that keep us at the table talking for hours.
So here’s the plan: The essays where I explore topics orbiting the ethos of slow, ecology, landscape, and social wellness will continue. But I’m going to take a short break. In the interim I’m going to simultaneously streamline and soften.
Thanks for being here. I’ll be back in a couple weeks.
Yours, Erin
postscript: a very great and short read on the topic of social illusions, by Vincenzo Latronico
