Here’s a joke that’s not so funny…

What do you call an American social safety net?

“Mommy!!”

So I am borrowing this idea from Jessica Calarco, who describes it this way in her book, Holding It Together: How Women Became America’s Safety Net : “Other countries have social safety nets. The U.S. has women.”

As we well know, women are more likely to fill in the gaps wherever care is needed: childcare, eldercare, sickness, household management or whatever the case be. Come what may, it’s the women who have been traditionally socialized and expected to step up when care is needed. Are there exceptions, sure, there are always exceptions.

But we’re looking at trends - and this one is longstanding.

Consider this:

Recent stats from the US Federal Reserve showed that when two parents live together, 58% of mothers said they are usually the primary caregiver, compared with just 12% of fathers. Even if both partners work, 49% of mothers said they were the primary caretaker versus 8% of fathers.

And consider this one too: 78% of single parents of children under 13 were single mothers. How do you bring home the bacon and be genuinely present for kids, alone? Is that a reasonable expectation?

All this caretaking could be noble, beautiful - but it often isn’t. Because we live in societies, dominated by punishing economic systems, where caring often makes you a loser - financially speaking, for sure.

This could be:

• in the form of taking low-paid care jobs, like social work or teaching.

• because of stepping away from your work to take care of your children.

• taking care of a sick parent or family member

The US Department of Labor makes the conservative estimate that US women lose out an average of $295,000 over a lifetime, from lost work opportunities and doing unpaid care work.

The simple act of ‘caring’ punishes economic futures.

Meanwhile, good caregiving creates endless value, in every corner of the world, that never gets counted or SEEN for what it is. Human capital IS our planet’s most valuable resource.

For whatever reason (greed, sexism, unprocessed this or that?), society has undervalued taking care of other people - as it has overvalued pushing papers and destabilizing the environment. Who decided that?

Before we jump to, not me - it’s worthwhile to ask ourselves: do I, unconsciously? What have I bought into without even realizing it?

What the Hummingbirds Taught Me calls for something different, where we see care for what it truly is - the foundation of healthy societies and economies - and a stable planet. Such a holistic approach to care includes:

• self-care

• spiritual-care

• relational-care

• care economies, with care-based GDPs

What would our economies look like if care were treated as prosperity? If it had its rightful place in our societies?

pps, What the Hummingbirds Taught Me is going on pre-sale soon! Stay tuned!

pps, In Vienna on Sept 4? Come join my book reading and open mic night! Write me for more!

Second Class Genius

Second class genius
Lost her pennies
In a rigged arcade
Lost her mind
Playing a game 
The players made

Second class genius
Couldn't find fans
To stoke her fires
Missed the wind
Winning the game
Requires

Second class genius
Hiding behind 
A library book
Couldn't rustle 
The hustle
The winning took 

First class genius
Skilled at the spin
Collected gold
Feasted on glory
For the winners 
Who win

Second class genius
Dreams smothered 
Gave up the game
Sits by the fire
Fanning flames
For another 

-Abigail Somma

Backstory:

I started writing some paras, but then felt like I was interpreting the poem for you, and I don't think I’m supposed to do that.

So I will just say two things: a) I did feel like a 2nd class genius when I wrote this and b) I believe everyone has a spark of genius within them.

Are you in Vienna on 4 Sept? Come to my book’s pre-launch reading! And maybe read something of your own - or play or sing! xx

So before reading this, I want to say that for the last 12 years or so, since becoming a mother, this has become a reoccurring theme in my life: how I see the mother I lost, how I feel her.

Scroll below when finished, there's a good story down there. 


Oh Mama, I Want To Tell You

Oh Mama
I find myself
Like you

I don't have 
Any more to give now
Either

Oh Mama
Weariness crept up
Crawled into my veins

And I missed you
I wanted to be with you

Sing the songs
You brought to your coffin
With you

Oh Mama
It's only now I see
How no one 
Understood you

Not even you
Could understand 
Yourself

You didn't know
They tricked you

Made you believe
You were falling short
A broken body
Falling apart

As they broke you
Fed you TV dinners
Soap operas and
Self-sacrifice

They told you 
It should be enough

Oh Mama
You carried a cross
And you gave it
To me

I'm tired now
And I miss you

I want to tell you
Standing on the horizon
I see you
I see you

-Abigail Somma

Backstory:

This poem says it by itself.

I had just gotten back to Vienna from Punta Cana, DR; it sounds like it should be fun, dreamy. In some ways, yes, it was.

But I came home exhausted, under-slept and melancholic.

Early morning jetlag had brought me into a Pearl Jam frenzy. I had never been much into Pearl Jam. But after Glen Hansard’s funeral, I wondered how he had become such good friends with Eddie Vedder and discovered a remarkable story.

At one of Hansard’s concerts, a young man choose to commit suicide, by throwing himself onto the stage, from somewhere up above it; he died on the stage, nearly missing Hansard. Some years prior, at a Pearl Jam concert in Denmark, nine people died in a kind of mosh-pit stampede. Vedder was of course devastated by this and after Hansard’s experience, he reached out to him to say, “Hey, I know what that’s like.”

That struck me because of course, so few people actually know what’s that like but also because it’s an act of true compassion and camaraderie. Apparently, Vedder kept calling Hansard every day to check in on him and the two eventually became very good friends.

Then Hansard died in a motorcycle accident. Eh, life… right.

So I came home from Punta Cana tired, out of energy - without the stamina to move into caregiving and screen battles and taking care of our apartment and grocery shopping and blah, blah, blah.

I listened to Just Breath by Pearl Jam, I thought of the mother I often think of and I wrote this poem. My book is a hybrid-memoir, but much of the memoir part is about this: finally being able to see my mother.

Perhaps read it again, with this song in the background, low volume obviously. It’s the best I can do to become a musician…

oh and ps, in going down the rabbit hole of GH + EV story, I discovered that Pete Townshend of The Who experienced similar at a concert in 1979 and HE called Vedder to offer him support - a bizarre chain of tragedy and goodwill.

Oprah does not appear in my book. But there’s something worth exploring here.

Several years ago, I wrote a poem critical of Oprah. And then I took it down. In my mind, I was like, but she’s Oprah. She gives away cars and tries to empower people. She may one day read my poetry and want me on the podcast - I’m not sure if I actually thought that, but it’s possible. Point being, I was unsure if I should publicly criticize Oprah to the 8 people who read my poems.

And then I thought, I don’t like censoring myself. As I have said, many times, my poems are photographs - still shots, they capture the way I felt in a moment, not everything I think. And there is something legitimate in that poem. She actually did say that her staff fold the edges of her toilet paper.

Moreover, I think we’ve seen a shift around Oprah ideology, her brand.

Oprah has often said: you are responsible for your life! And man, how Americans loved that. Their wannabe individualistic cells devoured it. But here is the thing: Oprah is a billionaire, a unicorn billionaire. She is the least representative person in the world. But Americans didn’t get that - they were like, I am responsible for my life. I can be like Oprah too! Massively rich, influential, get invited to royal weddings.

In theory, it sounded great.

But no, no you can’t. And many of them have figured that out by now.

Oprah did something that I genuinely liked and find very valuable: she opened the door to the idea that there is something spiritual, mystical, about the world at a time when many Americans felt squeamish talking about it publicly - she made it feel like it was ok. And that was great - important to many of us closeted meditators.

But she also sold us a bad bill of goods, with you are responsible for your life, especially when one lives in very broken political and socio-economic systems. Because in equal measure, Oprah, we are responsible for each other. And we aren’t doing a great job of it. Maybe, and this is a just a maybe, as one of a handful of American billionaires in a falling-apart country, you aren’t doing a great job of it either.

Recently, Oprah has been on social media talking about how people have gotten ‘mean.’ Her word. And I imagine in her mind, my poem might seem ‘mean.’ That’s why I thought to censor it! I don’t like being mean.

But perhaps people are feeling duped… by their gurus, their religious institutions, politicians, business leaders, etc… and maybe, being a little angry makes a little bit of sense?

So how does this tie into my book? My book has spiritual themes, even Oprah-esque! But it also looks at comparative economic-social policy, and what it looks like when a country actually cares about people vs. one that does not.

The truth is, Oprah has benefited outrageously from an economic system that has brought many, many people to their knees. Is that ok?

This contradiction seems invisible to her. We know she worked very hard; she’s a black woman. She had a particularly harsh childhood. In becoming a unicorn billionaire, Oprah overcame tremendous odds. All true, but her origin story has been celebrated many times over for decades. Meanwhile, our planet has evolved in acutely stressful and tumultuous ways and for a very long time, Oprah has lived as a stratospheric elite.

So I am not saying: planned economy, ration the bread, bring back the USSR! Heck, I would go the royal wedding too.

What I am saying is - look at the many stable countries with a social floor, designed not to let people fall through the cracks (I live in one, Austria) and let’s figure out how to get America there.

Oprah, maybe you can help us?

Life Slipped Off My Skin

Life slipped off my skin
Shedding cells in every place
I've been

I wanted to be home
But parts of me
Are everywhere

Grief became me
When I understood
Love had splintered 
Across oceans

We would never
Be together again

Love held me 
As it whispered
Part of you
Is always 
Somewhere

-Abigail Somma

Backstory:

I got back from the US, arriving in Vienna, and I felt discombobulated. Here is the thing, I have even taught a course called Mindfulness of Home and Belonging - and STILL, it’s a cypher.

I don’t want to leave OR stay. I want to go back to the US AND stay in Europe. I feel both American and European (and not to mention I miss my friends who live in neither).

Traveling and living abroad help us understand other people and cultures, we are challenged to expand our limits. But what no one tells you - not only can you never go home again - sometimes there is no home at all anymore.

At least that’s how I felt when I wrote this poem.

PS: If you are here just for updates/thoughts about my book and its themes, but not poems - why?? Just kidding, press unsubscribe and choose only Hummingbirds. 🎈

Dear readers,

Hello! This in inaugural What the Hummingbirds Taught Me post. Some of you have been reading my poetry for a while and I will be sharing updates about the book, as well as thoughts related to its contents and thesis.

Firstly, I am in the final edits! This book has been in the hands of a professional editor and is now back in mine. I expect it to reach you by October, more or less.

Secondly, I will keep writing and sending poems. Feel free to subscribe to only Poems or only Hummingbirds. I don’t like spamming people, so choose what works for you.

Third, my latest back cover text (feedback welcome :)

When Abigail Somma’s mother died, a hummingbird appeared at the funeral and hovered above the coffin. It was the beginning of a decade of mysterious signs and improbable coincidences she understood as guideposts. They led her through grief, a surprise twin pregnancy, secret debt, and an unexpected new life in Vienna, into all the ways early childhood shapes the next generation.

What the hummingbirds taught her became an argument: how unprocessed pain and fear shape our planet, traveling vertically through generations and horizontally across populations. In one person, we might call it trauma or anxiety. At scale, we call it global instability. Drawing on neuroscience, attachment research, and her experience raising children in two very different socio-economic systems, America’s and Austria’s, Somma makes the case that the primary place to invest in safety and security is earlier than anyone is looking: in the nursery, one developing brain at a time.

Part memoir, part call-to-action, this is a book about losing a mother, becoming one, and discovering that how the world treats the people who build its people will decide everything.

Fourth, like always - the news is always crazy. But some articles I came across feel particularly disturbing, in light of the book’s thesis. Spoiler alert - WTHTM ends with a rousing call to support mothers, who can then better care for our world’s children.

First, we have the deeply tragic story of Lindsay Clancy filling up our newsfeeds. Interestingly, the Guardian and others frame this as a mental health case, and maybe it is in part. But was Lindsay also a completely overwhelmed and overburdened mother, in addition to having mental health issues? It certainly wouldn’t surprise me. To be fair, I gotta keep some distance from this story for my own mental health, so I don’t know all the details. But before you say, she had a nanny, let’s bear in mind the immense load of childrearing was meant to spread across a village in a village-setting.

Then I came across this article too, about an openly overburdened mother of a disabled son who committed suicide. Regardless of whatever else, we are asking too much of our mothers.

Meanwhile, here’s how we’re spending our security budgets - on specialized gloves that can induce electric shocks in our fellow humans. Ugh. Ugh.

The research is clear - take care of the mother, take care of the infants and downstream security will problems clear up.

Supporting mothers IS global security. That’s the point of the book - and I hope you will join me in pushing out this message far and wide.

Until next time,

Abbie ❤️

The Greatest Wound I Didn't Know How to Heal

For how many years
I carried the greatest wound 
I didn't know how to heal
Yesterday he split 
Open again  
Like a fat hot dog
Overcooked in boiling water

Should I let him bellow in distress
Expand like a giant balloon
At the tip of explosion, 
Reassure him 
With gentle words 
As I coddle his girth

Sometimes it feels like
Nothing I ever do 
Will make him go away
This greatest wound 
I don't know how to heal

Then he speaks squarely, 
Why do you want me to leave 
I've been here
Since the beginning 
I will be with you
Until the end

I am you

Wishing me away
Is to war with yourself
We travel together
Find my beauty 
And we'll walk in peace

Then I find myself
Sitting among bits of latex
My beautiful wound
Popped

-Abigail Somma

Backstory: I am not 100% sure if this poem works. It’s mixing metaphors; some of it is quite literal. But this IS how pain sometimes feels to me: like a big, fat hot exploding dog or a balloon on the cusp of popping.

On another note, a note related my BOOK - I will probably start writing about it here and/or create separate posts about it. If you receive both posts and you only want to receive one or the other, please forgive me and write me. I will try to figure all this out. I think you can subscribe to one and not the other. **ok, update, I just checked and I think you can press ‘unsubscribe’ and then choose which posts you want (eg, poems, hummingbirds, etc.)

Ok, so here we go…

A few nights ago, I was lying in bed for a looong time trying to sort out how to explain my book. Some people are very kind to ask: What’s It About? - and I find myself stumbling over the answer. Then it hit me: it’s because this book IS more than one story, and it’s working on multiple layers. So here’s what I came up with:

On the surface What the Hummingbirds Taught Me (Global Security Starts in the Nursery) is a personal journey about motherhood: losing a mother, becoming a mother, and rediscovering the mother I lost through my children.

BUT - and this is a big BUT: Underneath, it’s also a story about how fear and buried pain create patterns that destabilize our world. On a personal level, we call unprocessed pain: trauma, and this pattern often starts very early in life. Aggregated across billions, it scales to a highly disrupted and unstable planet.

The cure? Getting the beginning of life right for as many babies as possible. The result? Better global patterns for everyone.

But (and because I used to work in international development) better patterns are NOT just about money (!) - though they are in part. Mass emotional support and witnessing - combined with effective, supportive policies - will scale to create healthy and empowered populations.

So let us invest - emotionally and financially - in infant and maternal health like our lives depend on it - because in our hyper-intense and crazy world, they very much do.

And I hope this book convinces you of that.

At the same time, my personal story lives inside this larger story. In fact, so does yours. All our stories begin in the same place: relationship with a primary caregiver. This one begins with my mother.

Coming very soon - stay tuned. ❤️

PS - In Vienna on Sept 4? I will be doing my first book reading! Write me to join.

Hi everyone!

Instead of sharing a poem today, I thought I would share the back cover text of my new book!

Once I figure out Substack a little more, I will be also sharing some relevant stories and content, both from the book and related to the overall premise.

I hope you will buy it when it’s ready and help me get the word out there.

Once it’s published, I plan to do Book Club Circles, where we will dive into some of themes. If it sounds interesting, please send me a note!

Is this book for you?

• Parent or you care about childhood mental health

• Spiritual, open to the mysteries of life

• You seek social justice and planetary health

• Bonus: You lost your mom or understand grief

Back cover:

What the Hummingbirds Taught Me begins where all stories begin: in relationship with a primary caregiver. It begins with a mother.

When Abigail Somma’s mother died, a hummingbird appeared at the funeral and flitted above the coffin, all eyes following its delicate movements. The hummingbird opened the door to a decade of mysterious signs, improbable coincidences, and one woman’s decision to follow their lead, through grief, a surprise twin pregnancy, secret debt, an unexpected life in Vienna and all the ways early childhood shapes the next generation.

While memoir carries the storytelling, this book is also a call to action.

Drawing on neuroscience, attachment research, comparative policy and lived experience, Somma makes the case that underinvesting - both financially and emotionally - in maternal and childhood wellbeing creates massive societal debt. She argues that the personal and the political are not different stories: they are the same story told at different scales. Through the ‘clues’ she follows, the metaphysical dimensions of consciousness are mapped onto the physical realities of early childhood development and societal policy. The ultimate discovery: global security begins in the nursery, one developing brain at a time.

What the Hummingbirds Taught Me is for the reader who wants both: the story and the argument, the spiritual and the structural, the mother and the global policy professional. It offers a unifying theory of why the world is the way it is and what it would take to change it.

The Miraculous Travels

The miraculous travels
Along a razor-thin electric wire
Accelerating at the speed of light

Grounded in your tailbone 
It surges up to your crown
Illuminating each vertebra
One disc at a time

How do you like it:
being a superconductor?

Drop your shoulders
Sink your frame into the floor,
The foundation cradling your feet

Hold steady
Everything is closer
Than you think


-Abigail Somma

Sometimes I like to post a song with a poem because they feel like a good match. Here’s a song for this one.