If you aren't already familiar with Chloe Hope and her writing at Death & Birds, it's my pleasure to introduce an exceptional writer. Chloe works as an end-of-life doula and volunteers for a wildlife rescue organization. The one, quiet attendance of souls uncoiling, the other, the delicate feeding of hatchling robins from the fine tip of a paintbrush. Death and birds. Yet, her writing is about both and neither. Let me say you won’t be “skimming.”
I discovered her through a quote that read "How we relate to our Dead directly effects how we relate to our Death." It was an essay about the thoughtless destruction of flowers on her mother's grave and her follow up with an indifferent and preoccupied vicar. The second piece I read was about caring for an elderly woman that had fallen in the street and the hours she spent holding her waiting for an ambulance to come. The second time I hit the Subscribe button before I ran the risk of not finding my way back.
Her work isn't precious. It isn't religious. It isn't aimed at specific community or indulged reader. I'm hesitant to call it "spiritual" (she might disagree), but it is profoundly attentive to Life. She is standing alone in the breach and, for reasons that I haven't yet and may never unlock, is committed to staying there.
Her writing, it seems to me, is a way of stepping near to Death while it sleeps, exquisitely careful not to startle it, closely enough that she — we — can hear its breathing. And the corollary: to set a baby aphid on the back of a reader's hand that they might feel the tiny scratch of claws and become aware of the moment of holding it (again, careful not to startle). It's a delicate mission demanding attention and grace, both of which I have very little.
Her work is unusual. She is unusual: Dickensonian, precise, calm, with a finger to the lips for silence, slowly palpitating for the life-giving vein, or, in her understated way, guiding a filament of hot solder. Please read her at least once.
Oh, Adam. My sincere thanks almost goes without saying; for your generosity, for using your space to share mine, and for connecting in the way that you have to the words that I’m casting out into the ether.
It’s quite the experience, actually, to read something so beautifully written about this rather intriguing woman - who I struggle to accept as being me. That said, I may steal “profoundly attentive to Life” for my bio, as that is most certainly my intention.
As to my commitment to the breach, I’m still pondering the reasoning myself, and will let you know should I land on anything definitive…so far all I know is, it’s the quietest, thinnest place I’ve found.
We might have to argue privately as to whether you have very little attention or grace, as your writing consistently suggests otherwise, but for now, again, thank you. It is a great pleasure to have met, and been met by, you.
Adam, I’m new to Substack but somehow stumbled my way onto Chloe Hope’s work early on. Exquisite depth and sweet softness and disarming humor - it’s like she’s somehow gained more innocence with each lived experience. Pretty much impossible to express the essence of her work. And then here you go doing just that. Thank you.