HeyJaredUnder a Spell
I write about creativity, sanity, and wisdom traditions. I also write about books, music, pop culture, and owning too many geese figurines. Come for the kale, stay for the coffee cake.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 6
- Latest publication
- Sep 13, 2026
- Audience
- Checking…
- Earliest in this view
- Jul 5, 2026
Latest issues
Previously Serves You Right (opens the original)
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<img alt="" class="sizing-normal" height="1942" src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!Rq4v!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6d96ec6e-34fa-47f8-8ec9-154cf96ea011_2946x3929.
Lauren Hough’s Monster of a Land (opens the original)
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<img alt="" class="sizing-normal" height="849" src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!w0RN!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F779e49d1-24ed-44bd-a648-5d5d8a802192_1969x1148.j
Art Film (opens the original)
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<img alt="" class="sizing-normal" height="1942" src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!KaVe!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F4367f607-2162-46f1-82f1-fbdcaacbc0e2_2822x3763.
Trusting the Process (opens the original)
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A spider belayed from my office ceiling one morning this week right next to my shoulder. I waved my pen under it like, “Look, buddy, this is not an ideal landing spot for you.” It jazz-leg climbed back up its invisible line, dangling at ceiling level for an hour or so, probably waiting for me to leave my desk so it could rifle through my headphones / blanket / sticky notes. I’m not gonna lie: I did worry about it plopping into a hot mug of coffee the next dark morning. Was that that was an extra
We Bought a House (opens the original)
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In the morning, while she made breakfast, the children stood in the window in the kitchen, hypnotized by the drops of rain on the glass. Ella’s white-blond hair, mussed with sleep, was the brightest thing in the room.-Anne Lamott, Blue Shoe<source typ
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