the fruits of connection

sorrow sorrow joy joy

psssst: read to the end of this section for a surprise

What are you whispering? Sorrow, sorrow. Joy, joy. Woven together, like reeds in moonlight.

—Virginia Woolf

CW: Food mentions.

It’s becoming something of a tradition for me to begin each issue of small magic by telling you I’m struggling—not because I want pity or concern, but because modeling honesty about hard things is important to me.

Regardless, I’m pretty sure I don’t need to do that this time. Everything hurts, for almost everyone I know. There are moments when the pain is overwhelming and it’s hard to know how to go on.

Which is why I want to talk to you about fruit.

A few weeks ago, my physical therapist mentioned that she had a new favorite stress management technique. “It’s kind of silly,” she said, and my ears perked up. She told me she’d started watching sensory videos for babies, the kind with happy dancing fruit and vegetables. “I can’t stop,” she said. “Go home and look up sensory fruit videos. You’ll be glad you did.”

I followed her instructions, and friends, “glad” does not even begin to cover it. Watch for yourself.

I watched, and then I watched again, and then I texted many, many friends. The response from every single person was the same: pure, unadulterated joy. Gratitude that such a marvelous, potent, and concentrated form of joy exists.

Human beings are visual and social animals. The team behind these videos engineered them to tap into our primal needs and pleasures. Smiling. Movement. Play. Doing anything in unison. While the direct link between dancing, color, and happiness may be most evident in the youngest among us, we don’t outgrow it, no matter how smart, sophisticated, or broken we feel. Sometimes it just takes a little curiosity to find it again.

I’ve lost and suffered so much in the last few years. Every day is a trial of endurance. And still, no matter how many times I watch, the happy little blueberry makes me beam like I just won an award.

I feel a weird resonance with this blueberry, almost as if I’m watching myself onscreen. I still can’t quite pinpoint what it is. She’s just me—a version of myself that can dance, attend parties, and be free.

And then there was the eggplant.

Over the summer, a friend found herself with a bumper crop of eggplant and offered me one. I’m usually too tired to cook proper meals and had never even prepared eggplant before, but that gorgeous fruit could not be refused. I brought it home and began looking up easy recipes. But before I could cook it, I had to take its picture. It was too photogenic to simply consume.

Look at her!

Regarding the eggplant as an aesthetic object showed me not only its beauty but also its charming idiosyncrasies, its buxom heft, the way its sepals curled like locks of green hair. (This, by the way, is one of my favorite mindfulness/haiku exercises: just noticing.)

Naturally, I had to draw her.

When I was done with my eggplant cartoon, I snapped a photo and sent it to my friend, who shared her delight. That, I figured, was the end of it.

Then, last month, a little box arrived with my name on it.

My cheeks were wet with tears before I even finished unpacking the contents.

She’d sculpted the drawing, right down to each sassy sepal and the tiny terrycloth details on the towel. The eggplant she grew. The eggplant I drew. A goofy, frivolous-looking thing, yet each incarnation was the product of loving attention, kindness, and care.

Camus wrote that the literal meaning of life is whatever keeps you from killing yourself. For me, this is it: silliness. Love. Connection. The glimmering confetti of joy.

Dear one, I know that everything hurts. But you are not going through this alone. Keep your eyes, heart, and hands open, as much as you can. Joy still exists. The fruit is out there.*

---

berried alive

The surprise: I loved my earnest blueberry so much that I had her printed.

I’m giving away 2 blueberry postcards; if you’d like one, leave a comment or reply to this message and tell me what’s been bringing you joy lately.

I’ll randomly select 2 readers this Friday. If you win, I’ll reach out for your address. I can mail it to you blank in an envelope or write an encouraging message on the card—your choice.

The remaining postcards are available for $3 each + $1.00 shipping (up to 3 cards; 4+ cards will cost a little more to ship). I accept Venmo (@katehorowitz) and Paypal (kate.horowitz@gmail.com). Just send me a private message or email with your address and how many cards you’d like.

---

speaking of joy & sorrow & getting stuff in the mail

After dreaming/joking about it for years, Elinor and I finally created our sticker shop, which will be launching soon. The first batch of stickers is sitting next to me right now and they’re incredible, if I do say so myself. Follow us on Instagram and Bluesky for updates.

---

@chenchenwrites on bluesky

Dear stranger, dear fruit-friend, dear crumbling creature trying to make it through another day:

Thank you for staying alive with me.

I am so, so glad you’re here.

---

*DAMMIT. Do I have to make postcards that say THE FRUIT IS OUT THERE? I think I do.