a question

someone asked me this question a few weeks ago and I haven't been able to stop mulling it over. so I wrote about it.

+ in a subway station in berlin with music from an electric guitar floating through the air and the rumble of the city beneath my feet

+ when I came home from a trip and my siblings screamed and hugged me so tight there was no breath left in me and the tears just came out of nowhere and spilled over as the crickets chirped their song

+ reaching the the summit of a mesa after spending all morning climbing it and even though it was only seven hundred feet high, I stood at the very edge and I swore I was on top of the world

+ getting up early and catching the train for the first time by myself, then showing the conductor my ticket when he walked through and even though tons of kids my age travel alone all the time I felt strangely grown up and powerful

+ sitting on a bench in front of the eiffel tower and crying

+ standing in the cold ocean, letting the current suck at my feet and knock the breath out of me

+ stargazing with my best friends in the middle of the road, the sky velvety black and the concrete warm from the day's heat

+ being carefree and forgetting about the future and acting like a little kid and not caring about anything except the present



the lake, the cabin, the fields

I live in the literal centre of this continent, snowed in from every direction. Consuming excessive amounts of Vitamin C, curling up in sunbeams on the living room floor like a cat, and watching these videos are my saving graces during this fifth month of winter. If you're feeling a little chilly, go ahead and visit one of my summer homes:

(watch all in HD here)

The lake:

The cabin:

The fields:



definitions of love

 photo love_zps1bddd302.jpg
I have loved, I have been loved, I have never been in love.

I have been stricken by an overwhelming, profound thing that could be described with too many adjectives; a pressure in my gut; a profound realization; a gratefulness; a joy; a sense of forgiveness. My love is for my family, my friends, my dog, my hobbies, my passions.

And even though love is defined as a deep affection for someone, I think it's something deeper; a feeling that you can't quite put your finger on. I can describe what love brings, what it makes me feel, but it takes a far more skilled writer to touch on the essence of love. All I can say is it is happiness, but not always, it is understanding and mistakes and sometimes failure but usually forgiveness. It is something quite beautifully human, and I cannot imagine living without it.

What is your definition of love?



poetry : do you wonder?

do you know what it's like to
tie your heart to everything you carry?

i picked it up when i was little,
it came along with trying to be older.
it's always to late to realize

it's too late, right?


do you know how it feels to let it go?
slip from your shoulders.

a blanket?

why always a blanket?
like letting go. it makes sense do you --

i wonder.

good. you were almost too late.

for what?

then what?

xo, h



It had been over half her lifetime since, but she kept lists and handfuls of things she remembered.  It began with glass doorknobs, and continued like this:  the small black-and-white tiles that made up the bathroom floor(always chilly in the early mornings), golden yellow kitchen walls (many breakfasts), ugly green carpets that were thick with dirt (before they were removed and left by the lightpost where the trashcan sat on the street), the radiator with the white metal box covering it (sitting, winter mornings, warm feet, book in hand).  She could pluck the little scraps of information, as they lazily floated through the air.  The list would continue on: windows (painted shut), third story attic (filled with boxes), deck, hard wood floor, green walls.  But a gust of wind came through town, for a whole year, and all the little pieces flew out(business class).  She stumbled for three months then, before realizing that they were gone.  


the vision of rest

Some words to reflect on from Wendell Berry's book of poems Clearing (a highly recommended read).


words for love

Margaret Atwood once wrote The Eskimos have 52 words for snow because it is so special to them; there ought to be as many for love. Whilst maybe there aren't that many synonyms for love, there are most definitely hundreds of different interpretations of what love is. There are stories about first love, lasting love, unrequited love, passionate love, platonic love, and so many more.
Below is a small selection of some of our favourite love-related literature  What poems, essays and stories would you add?

If I Had A Daughter

Barnheart by Jenna Woginrich | The History Of Love by Nicole Krauss | The Secret Keeper by Kate Morton

Mad Love
The Thousands Of Quiet Ways
The Birthday Present by Polly Samson

poems by Andrea Gibson | Marvin Bell | writingsforwinter | Bob Hicok |


a mixtape for february

These are just a handful of our February anthems (there were so many, we had to narrow them down) - the sounds and lyrics that make us think of certain somebodies, cute stories that have us giddy-dancing, and cuter stories that have only happened in our daydreams (our inboxes have been filled with both lately). Grab some chocolate or cinnamon hearts and maybe some tissues and have a listen to our big pile of mush. 


staff picks: valentine's edition.

Our email threads this month have been full of lots of giggliness, cute valentine stories, and gushing about proposal videos. Enjoy this month's staff picks.

Will & Charis get married.

A love poem, and another.

love story, and another.

Read my lips: chocolate tea.

I think you're rad.

Hello. Also, I love you.

Make a wish DIY bracelet.

Let's all write love notes and letters to our crushes.

Unconventional compliments.


Salted caramel brownies, perfect for Valentine's Day.

The longest married couple in America.

Quiet love.

Five ways to love.

Gorgeous sculptures by Takanori Aiba.

Have a happy weekend from the entire Fernweh staff!


living passively vs. passionately.

there is a gigantic difference, living passively or passionately. for a while I had a hard time choosing between the two. there are so many passionate people who either fall flat on their face pursuing that passion or completely change their mind on how they feel the very next day. so instead of trailing along behind them, I tried the passive lifestyle, regarding everything with a yes, no, or whatever, displaying no emotion or strong feeling toward anything at all. getting through life relying on the music I listened to and the books I read to speak for me, feel for me. not becoming attached to anything or anyone was the easy way out because, frankly, it hurt less; and, frankly, my heart was whole, unbroken. it was also cold and untouched. but once upon a time a girl dreamed about writing books and creating magazines and becoming a role model and reaching out to those without a voice of their own and giving them one. and this girl realized spending her nights dreaming of what she could do in this world while spending her days doing nothing at all and loving nothing at all and hating nothing at all and feeling nothing at all would, in turn, create nothing at all and be nothing at all. to be passionate, burning with love for life and people and purpose, will cause immense heartbreak, pain, disappointment; but living passively will not change the world. there is a choice, with two very different outcomes. and it is true that living passively opposed to passionately is safer for the muscle we call a heart, but is an emotionless life a better life to lead? is our purpose to die with a heart intact and untroubled? I certainly hope not. I hope to leave a piece of my heart in every place I go and with every person I meet. I want to die knowing I loved with everything in me and crushed into a million little pieces by the beauty of this world we live in. what about you?