Our hope is that this book club will nurture a love for reading, while creating opportunities to have beautiful and thoughtful conversations within your immediate community.

The book club process will look like this: Vote on the book, read the book, listen to a podcast discussion between Kristine and Olivia, repeat!

When joining, we highly encourage you to find loved ones to join along with you. There’s nothing better than talking about a recent read with a friend, and we hope that this can provide an opportunity for you to make your own mini book club in your local community.

Become a member here (for FREE).

Voting ends September 11.

Book announced September 12.

Reading begins September 21.

Ultimately, we have to send a lot of no’s, but we aim to regularly extend these writer calls to give ample opportunity for those who want to be part of what we are doing with this newspaper.

If your piece is not selected, we hope you can view it as an opportunity to better your writing skills, which ultimately takes lots and lots of practice. We also encourage you to engage with our work so you can become familiar with our tone and mission. You can do so by following along here on Substack where we share articles from past issues, but of course, subscribing to receive the print copy of each issue is the best way to familiarize yourself with our work.

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Without further ado, here is the two articles we are looking to fill for our December issue:

Historical Fiction

2,000-3,000 words
A story that includes one more of the following concepts: Ocean, ships, discovery, exploration, stars, sailor mythology.

The Spirit of Exploration

750-1,000 words
A reflective article on the innate human desire for discovery and exploration.

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Submission Deadline: September 18

Our team will review the submissions and make our final selection within a few days of the deadline. We will work with the selected writer to bring the piece to its final draft by September 28.

By submitting, you are agreeing to our submission policy.

Submit via our website, our through our email telegraph@lottura.com.

“All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.”

J.R.R. Tolkien

Wandering can be defined in a number of ways: movement away from the normal or usual course or place; moving from place to place without a fixed plan; the act of moving about aimlessly or roaming.

Wandering is easily named and rarely executed; there are few in our beautiful, severe world who know the art of wandering. When I speak of knowing, I do not mean the kind of knowledge that is bound to our heads and does not travel to the rest of us. I mean, instead, the kind of knowledge that hallows experience. The kind of knowledge we must have is the one that demands purpose and presence, not the kind that reeks of mere “intellect.” Intellect, by definition, is “the human mental faculty responsible for reasoning, understanding, abstract thought, and judgment, distinct from emotional or instinctual processes.” It is the part of our brain that gathers the information and decides what to do with it. Intellect, when practiced by itself, leads to an accumulation of ideas without a purpose to them.

Who are we really, and who can we become if we are minds without hearts? Were we not made to be body, mind, and soul — a glorious trio of balance that cannot function one without the other? We have all encountered “intellect” or the reality of being so absorbed in the mind that empathy, imagination, musings, and art are foreign objects. Intellect, when properly placed, is necessary, but intellect was never intended to act alone. It must be paired with movement — for if your facts and information do nothing to help you or others, it could be argued, “What is the point?” Facts must move as water does. As a sailor ensures his boat is well stocked and supplied before he sets out into the ocean, we, too, must gain the knowledge that goes to the head — fully supplied for the journey. Then, we are to embark on a journey of wandering to carry those facts along with a strong wind and steady sails.

Have you ever laid in a bed of grass or sandy beach on a quiet night, fixed only on the vast expanse above, with billions of gleaming pockets of light for your eyes to behold? If you have, you know that there are few experiences that compare with this one. It can be a bit frightening at first; you allow yourself to become vulnerable to the darkness around you by submitting to the ground. You cannot see much of anything that surrounds you. You make the choice to not pollute the purity of the night with electronics or even with conversation. But once you have yielded to the night, the first thing that happens is you begin to relax. Every muscle in your body relieves its tension. You breathe deeply. All of your worries and cares seem to be absorbed by the night sky, each star taking a burden for a moment and showing us how beautiful the hard things can be and how brightly the stars shine in the midst of so much darkness. Perhaps the loveliest part of it all is this: the longer you lay there, the more stars appear. I remember a time feeling utterly enthralled as I lay on a bed of grass, seeing things I had never seen before, feeling the earth beneath me and the cool air blowing above me. The experience was only enhanced by the sound of nearby ocean waves — bending, breaking, crashing, changing.

If there is one thing in nature that knows how to wander, it is water. Water has intense depth, and not merely physically, but as a symbol of something more. Water is cleansing. It is healing. It is life. It is play. It is even, at times, a part of death — a symbol of burial, surrender, and departure. Water both welcomes us and sends us on our way. There is a sacredness to it that holds within it a story so immense that we will never fully comprehend its vastness. Water teaches us to yield. It shows us the ways of wandering; the ways of flowing, following, and imagining. Every movement of the water demonstrates to us the beauty of both stillness and unfettered feeling. Water is one of the most powerful pictures of what we were designed to do and how we were designed to be.

But a question arises as we test this: is wandering a dark thing — a wicked abyss that one must never dare even entertain? Perhaps the thought of wandering makes you uneasy — perhaps it even terrifies you. Maybe your heart begins to tighten, your stomach twisting in all directions as you wonder if wandering is allowed. You do not even know what to do with the concept. Some may have been told it is a waste of time, or it may have even gone so far as to be deemed evil — fearful warnings coming forth that it will lead you to dangerous places.

Yet, here we have a rub: what use does the imagination have without wandering? How can we grow or create when we fill every single moment with “holy things” and dismiss the power of stillness? The power of waiting for guidance as to where we go next? Wandering is not dangerous; wandering is a gateway to direction. It is the space we choose to create that will allow us to breathe, to ebb and flow as the waters do, and to allow ourselves to rest so that we may find energy for what is to come. Wandering gives our body the signal that it is safe to wait.

What does wandering look like day in and day out? When we picture it in our minds, we might imagine frolicking through fields or some other similar image. While this may be one practical way to enact wandering, wandering is much more than this. Wandering is a state of mind that we enter into where we choose to be still and open. We choose to wash the windows with purposeful circles instead of fast scrubbings, to take off our shoes in the grass so we can actually feel the earth beneath us, to allow our children to show us what they may notice on the ground or in the sky instead of dragging them behind us because “we have to...”. Wandering is a conscious decision to wait for ideas. It is an opportunity for our minds and bodies to create. When we make ourselves available to change, we cannot possibly fathom what may come from that availability. Perhaps for you wandering looks like total silence. Perhaps it is stepping away for a day or two to be in nature and see what you can find. Maybe it is listening to music that once sparked new ideas but was shoved to the back of the cabinet. Whatever wandering may look like for you, chances are it will be uncomfortable and challenging at first try. It takes great diligence and persistence to refuse to pick up the phone for a few hours, or to simply find moments to laugh, or to get an idea for a day outing with a friend.

Step into the zone of discomfort, dear readers. Will you join us as we dare to wander? Will you push against the culture of such rushing, desperate survival? Will you lay under the night sky and allow yourself to find more stars the longer that you lay there? Won’t you take more deep breaths than you’ve taken all week? Our hearts, minds, and bodies long to enjoy this wandering, so that in it we may find a source of strength and beauty that is not within ourselves, or within our accomplishments and to-do lists. It is found in something outside of this world.

Beauty comes from somewhere — will you wonder where?

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This will be the last episode of what we are deeming season two. We will be back with season three late October.

To purchase a newspaper, head to ⁠lottura.com⁠

To share your feedback, questions, and ideas, email telegraph@lottura.com

Today, many of us move through evenings flooded with artificial light. Overhead LEDs glow long after dark. Phones illuminate our faces inches away from our eyes. We answer emails at 10 p.m., eat dinner distracted, scroll while exhausted, and wonder why rest feels harder than it should. Modern life has blurred the boundaries between day and night, and the body feels the consequences.

Circadian rhythm is often reduced to a conversation about sleep, but it influences far more than whether we feel tired at bedtime. The body’s internal clock helps regulate metabolism, hormone production, digestion, body temperature, insulin sensitivity, cellular repair, and nervous system function. Nearly every system in the body responds to light cues and daily rhythm. Morning light signals to the brain that it is time to raise cortisol naturally and produce energy. Daylight supports mitochondrial function, mood regulation, and healthy wakefulness. Darkness signals the release of melatonin — a hormone commonly associated with sleep but deeply connected to recovery, metabolic health, mitochondrial protection, reproductive function, and cellular repair. The body is constantly interpreting its environment and adjusting accordingly.

Modern humans often think of metabolism as something controlled primarily through calories, exercise, or willpower. But metabolism is ultimately an energy system shaped by the nervous system and environment. The body continuously asks questions beneath conscious awareness: Is it safe to rest? Is it time to wake? Is food abundant? Is it daylight or darkness? Should energy be used for repair or vigilance?

These signals influence far more than we realize. When evenings remain excessively bright and overstimulating, the brain receives mixed information. Artificial light —particularly blue light emitted from screens and overhead LEDs — suppresses melatonin production and can keep the nervous system in an alert state long after sunset. Sleep may become lighter or more fragmented. Stress hormones can remain elevated later into the night. Blood sugar regulation may shift. Appetite cues can change. The body may begin losing the clear rhythm it was designed to follow.

In many ways modern culture keeps us living in a perpetual midday, and, in turn, the nervous system rarely receives the environmental signals that tell it to fully exhale. We now spend much of our lives indoors beneath artificial lighting that barely changes from morning to midnight. Evening has lost much of its distinction. The body, however, still operates according to ancient biological expectations shaped over thousands of years.

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Human physiology evolved in close relationship with the natural world. Sunrise once marked the beginning of activity, movement, and energy expenditure. Darkness signaled stillness, safety, and restoration. Even seasonal changes affected appetite and sleep patterns. The body adapted constantly to the rhythms around it.

Modern technology has undoubtedly brought tremendous convenience, but the nervous system has not evolved at the same pace as our environment. While the conscious mind may understand that scrolling a phone at midnight is harmless, the deeper biological systems of the body still interpret excessive nighttime light and stimulation as a signal to remain alert. This may help explain why so many people today feel both exhausted and unable to rest.

The issue is not simply lack of discipline or poor sleep habits. Many people are attempting to force deep restoration inside environments that physiologically communicate wakefulness and stress. You can see this in evenings that often mimic the pace of midday. Notifications continue arriving. Television streams endlessly. Work bleeds into nighttime hours. Bright kitchen lights remain overhead while dinner is eaten quickly between tasks. Many people fall asleep with artificial light still flashing nearby. The nervous system rarely experiences a true transition into night.

Traditional evening practices may have supported health in ways our ancestors did not fully articulate scientifically but understood intuitively. Sitting around a fire after dark was not simply recreational. Firelight contains very little blue light and produces a warm, flickering glow that feels fundamentally different from modern artificial lighting. The eyes soften around it. Breathing often slows naturally. Conversation deepens. The body begins shifting away from vigilance and toward regulation.

A fire changes the chemistry of the evening; it invites presence. There is something profound about gathering around warm light while the rest of the world grows dark. The pace becomes slower. Attention widens. Silence feels less uncomfortable. In many traditional cultures, evening hours were not filled with endless stimulation,but with storytelling, music, shared meals, quiet work, prayer, or reflection. These rhythms likely supported metabolic health in ways we are only beginning to understand more deeply.

The parasympathetic nervous system, often called the “rest and digest” state, becomes more active when the body feels safe enough to relax. Digestion improves in calmer states. Blood sugar tends to stabilize more effectively. Repair processes increase during deep sleep. Hormones function more rhythmically when the body experiences consistent cycles of light and darkness.

The body thrives on rhythm, and this may be one reason why practices that seem simple or even nostalgic can have surprisingly profound physiological effects. Watching a sunset, eating dinner without harsh lighting, sitting outside in the evening air, lighting candles, reducing stimulation before bed, or gathering around a fire may appear insignificant compared to modern wellness trends, yet these practices directly influence the nervous system environment the body operates within.

Wellness is often pursued through addition: more supplements, more optimization, more tracking, more restriction. But many people are deeply overstimulated, disconnected from natural rhythms, and chronically exposed to environments that keep the body subtly stressed. Sometimes healing begins not through intensity, but through restoring rhythm.

This does not mean romanticizing the past or rejecting modern life entirely. Technology itself is not the enemy. Artificial light allows people to work, connect, create, and live with remarkable convenience. The goal is not perfection but awareness, and the body responds remarkably well to small consistent changes.

Morning sunlight exposure can help anchor circadian rhythm and improve nighttime melatonin production later in the evening. Dimming lights after sunset helps signal the transition into rest. Using lamps instead of overhead lighting can create a softer nervous system environment. Reducing screen exposure before bed may improve sleep quality and next-day energy. Evening rituals like tea, reading, stretching, prayer, conversation, or sitting outside can help the body recognize that the day is ending.

Even slowing the pace of dinner matters more than many people realize. Digestion is not purely mechanical. The nervous system influences stomach acid production, enzyme release, blood flow to the digestive tract, and nutrient absorption. Eating while stressed, distracted, overstimulated, or rushing sends very different signals to the body than eating in a calmer state. The environment surrounding food changes the way the body experiences nourishment.

This broader perspective on metabolic health is deeply important because many modern health struggles cannot be separated from the conditions people are living inside daily. Chronic stress, constant stimulation, irregular sleep, excessive artificial light exposure, and nervous system dysregulation all influence the body’s ability to produce energy efficiently.

The human body is not simply a machine responding to calories in isolation. It is responsive, adaptive, and deeply relational to its environment. Perhaps this is why so many people feel drawn toward practices that reconnect them to slower rhythms. Bonfires with friends. Candlelit dinners. Evening walks. Watching the sky darken. Listening to crickets in the summer air. Sitting quietly on a porch after the children are asleep.

These moments may appear small, but the nervous system experiences them differently than hours spent beneath bright artificial light while consuming endless information. While modern wellness culture often searches for increasingly complicated solutions, many of the foundations of health remain remarkably old. Light. Darkness. Rest. Community. Warmth. Rhythm. Safety.

The body still remembers these things.

Wellness is not only shaped by what we consume, but by the environments we repeatedly live inside. Perhaps one of the most healing things modern people can remember is that night was never meant to feel like noon.

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To enjoy our August issue to its fullest and read more articles like The Light That Cries For More, Dragon Sickness: The Possession of Possessions, and The Romance of Heat, purchase a print copy on our website.

Olivia’s recent reads:

Phantastes by George MacDonald; The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion by Beth Brower; Howards End by E.M. Forster; Family Happiness by Leo Tolstoy; The Meek One by Fyodor Dostoevsky; Right ho, Jeeves! by P.G Wodehouse

Kristine’s recent reads:

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy; The Odyssey by Homer; The Iliad by Homer; Circe by Madison Miller; The Complete Fairytales by George MacDonald

Other books mentioned:

War & Peace by Leo Tolstoy; The Brothers Fyodor Dostoyevsky; Les Miserables by Victor Hugo; Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis

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Contact us through telegraph@lottura.com

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For most issues, we will be putting out 1-2 writer calls pertaining to particular topics and themes. Our inbox will be open to submissions until the stated deadline, and these submissions can either be fully written first drafts, or they can be partial drafts with notes on the intended direction. When we hit the deadline, our team will sort through submissions and make our selection.

Our team will then aid the selected writer in preparing the article for publication! This will include making notes to expand or adjust sections so that they align with the themes of the issue, and will also be proofread by our copy editing team.

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These are the two articles we are looking to fill for our upcoming November issue:

1. Historic article about the introduction of the railroad and what it brought to society, with a reflective ending. (500-750 words)

2. A reflective article on not rushing growing up, and how that carries into adulthood in that we shouldn’t rush into things just because it may seemingly make life easier. (1,200-1,500 words)

Please email a partial or completed first-draft to telegraph@lottura.com by August 26. We will make our final selection shortly after, and assist in finalizing the piece for publication!

To learn more about our print newspaper publication, and watch for future writer calls on our website, or here on Substack!

Submit via our website: lottura.com/pages/contribute

Submit via email: telegraph@lottura.com

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When I was growing up, I struggled to learn how to read. Thankfully, my mom’s friend caught me reading a newspaper upside down and decided to give me specialized lessons to improve my reading and writing. Even then, I would pick up the occasional Enid Blyton book about once a year. But when I was in high school, I decided to start reading The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot and I was instantly bitten by the reading bug. I became a voracious (yet slow) reader and almost always had to walk out of a bookstore with a new book in hand. My sweet dad, who only had a high school diploma, was always willing to let me spend his hard-earned money on a good book.

I quickly became the unofficial proofreader for my family and close friends. My father would let me review some of his company letters, my brother would ask me to proofread his Master’s thesis drafts, my friends would ask me for feedback on their résumés, and my classmates would even solicit my help with diagnosing their statistical software codes, whereby consistency and precision are of paramount importance. Through proofreading a wide variety of writing material, I grew to enjoy noticing the details, improving grammar and punctuation, and shaping a product to be its most excellent version. Indeed, I truly believe that the goal of proofreading and copyediting is not perfection, but excellence.

Now, journey with me back to September 2025. I had just graduated with my Ph.D. degree and was looking for some wholesome reading content to decompress from all the technical reading I had been doing for the past four years. Imagine my delight when I saw this little something called The Lottura Post show up on my Instagram feed. As the kids say, “It was an instant subscribe for me.”

While I had truly enjoyed perusing the issue, little typos and inconsistencies threw me off my reading flow. I remember thinking if I should offer to be an extra pair of eyes before subsequent issues were sent to the printer. Thankfully, I did not have to wonder for too long. Shortly after the first issue was out, there was a call for proofreaders, which I immediately answered. I am grateful that the team took a chance on me since I did not have any formal proofreading or copyediting training. As The Lottura Post approaches her second year of publication, the copyediting process has certainly found its steady rhythm. It goes a little like this…

Once the layout and design of the issue is ready (which is a feat in and of itself that the founder, Kristine, undertakes), the first draft arrives in my inbox for proofreading. I typically try to review the issue within a day or two to give ample time for the second round of proofreading which is completed by Maria, copy editor extraordinaire. The third and final round of proofreading is then sent to the entire editing team before it is finalized and sent to the printer.

Each time I proofread The Lottura Post and The Lotturette, I look for three main things: cohesion, consistency, and clarity. As a reader of the newspapers myself, I have found that a lack of these three things can hinder the reading process, decrease engagement with the material, and hurt trust in the quality of the newspapers. Simply put, the goal of a well-edited and well-reviewed issue is for readers to not notice that it has been edited and reviewed. Indeed, it is much easier to notice the presence of errors than to notice the absence of them.

As I conclude this piece, I leave you with a small blessing: May The Lottura Post and The Lotturette bring fresh joy and renewal to your days.

Happy reading!

The first issue of year two is our September issue! Subscribe by the end of August to receive it!

Subscribe to our newspaper at lottura.com

“Courage, dear heart.”

These simple words of the great Lion, Aslan, from C.S. Lewis’ masterpiece, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, are a balm to the soul for old and young alike. Courage is never superfluous. Even the very brave must look for courage in dark moments. Everyone can tell when courage is needed. Sometimes the heart grows faint. Sometimes the truth hits a brick wall inside your mind. Sometimes we look about and wonder where the answers went. Sometimes we see the deficit in another person — their eyes have a dimness about them, their posture is heavy, they grow more silent when keeping company, they yield when they would otherwise march. Courage rarely comes with silence and inactivity; it is a beautiful word embodied in action, quickly found and also quickly lost. It is not complicated, though we try to make it such. Courage is what the soldier must find as he faces his enemy. Courage was what Frodo Baggins needed at every turn of his journey to destroy the One Ring. Courage is the simple hope we offer our child when they fear a new situation or feel discouraged by their struggles. Courage is the inner push that drives us from what is comfortable and familiar into new, fertile territory. We cannot know what may be ahead of us, but as Mark Twain once said, “Courage is resistance of fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear.” To be courageous is to have within oneself a choice made to no longer allow a frightening or grievous thing to oppress the mind

.

Exhaustion is common as winter is fading and spring is coming. Some mornings, we can smell spring — a distant friend whose scent the wind carries toward us, reminding us of hope. But other mornings, the very air we breathe feels frozen, like the trajectory of growth within ourselves. When March arrives, winter knows that its time is coming to an end. Spring has not yet emboldened itself to emerge, but its whispers can be heard. Our spirit is the same. Winter has been a time of reflection, of holding, and of preparation. This takes energy, and energy comes from within. So, when the emerging of newness begins, it either sparks within us a sense of dread and fear or a sense of readiness and excitement.

March is a courageous month — the first month after the frozen stillness to peak out its head, the quietest seasonal entrance. Summer enters with boldness, ease, and color. Autumn enters with playfulness and invitation. Winter enters with strength, persistence, and opportunity. Yet spring is not so. It is gentle...kind...and patient. It doesn’t push its way through, but it merely waits, allowing everyone to know that it is coming, but not with pomp and circumstance. And this is how courage enters, as well: gentle, present, and unavoidable.

Our winter watch is ending, as the beat of the night watchman ends. The watchman sees the sun rising, sending forth the early morning blue hue of light, and he knows his time has come to shift. The watchman never ceases to be vigilant, for that is merely who he is, but his vigilance moves — it moves from the quiet streets of night, his own thoughts being his only company, and into the light of day. The day requires something different of us than the night does. It is not so hard to stay awake, and we even may give ourselves moments of ease and play to welcome in the new eruptions of life that are coming. It is not in full bloom yet — only hints of it may be found — but the earth and the animals all know that the time is coming when vibrance will begin. There is merely a season of bracing for the emergence that must happen to adequately prepare.

So, readers — we know the emergence is coming. Though some have spring arriving sooner than others, winter is ending. Perhaps your soul and your spirit are confused as to where it may gain its strength from: strength to wait, strength to thrive and not merely survive, strength to love, strength to create. It will take courage to step into the changes that spring will undoubtedly bring...courage for the heart, the mind, and the spirit. J.R.R. Tolkien said, “It is not the strength of the body that counts, but the strength of the soul.” Bodily strength is of benefit and value and sometimes can help the strength of the spirit, but bodily strength is not what will keep a person going. What keeps someone moving forward is hope — hope for tomorrow, for next week, for next year, for 15 years from now.

Where is your hope? And where is my hope? Is our hope stored up in the fact that winter is “finally over?” Is it coming from our routines, our goodness, our checklist being completed? Is it being cultivated by other people? Does hope appear out of thin air? No, dear readers. Hope and courage must be partners, hand in hand, and both of those may only come from what is beautiful.

Have you ever noticed how beauty doesn’t die? As long as we are upon this earth, living, breathing, and waiting for what comes next, there will always be something beautiful to be found. It could be tangible — a beautiful flower bud, a new baby, or a babbling brook. It could be something we ourselves create, such as a meal, a piece of art, a soulful poem, a song, and the like. Where courage is concerned, it is often initiated within our senses, but then perpetuated by something we cannot yet touch or see — something eternal. We are here for a reason. Not one person is a mistake or an accident. Our lives have the potential to be something surreal, something that is outside of this world if we will only yield to the processes our Creator has set before us rather than fighting against them or dreading them. Aslan was the constant source of the Narnians’ hope in The Chronicles of Narnia. When things looked bleak, when their physical actions had been exhausted, when they had nowhere else to turn, they looked outside of themselves for hope. This is still an action that must be taken, but it is an action of the soul and the mind, a conscious choice to direct our thoughts toward beauty and to not give in.

So wherever you may be in this world, whatever your March entails, have courage, dear hearts. Find the beauty. Find hope. It is not gone; it only needs to be noticed and pursued relentlessly. And when one dear soul makes the choice to have courage and follow hope, it inspires the next person, and the next, and the next to find out how they, too, may have this strength of the spirit.

Get Issue No. 12

Here’s a glimpse of what you’ll be seeing:

Featured artist - Sara Jeffries

Feature article - A Very Fond Farewell by Renee Eiler

Other articles:

An Engineer’s Lament by Joshua Reeves

How Night Shapes the Body by Noelle Kovary

A Completed Circle by Bailey Stolze

Folklore by Olivia Litts

& more

Feature Interview - Eric & Tabitha of Deep Roots Living Soil

Wisdom from our Matriarchs - A Master Gardener’s Journey by Pamela Anthony

This may be our favorite issue yet and we can’t wait for it to reach you wherever you may be! You can order August’s issue through the end of July.

Inspired by the many impressive feats of human ingenuity both in the modern world and in ancient times, my younger self, a doe-eyed high-schooler, decided to pursue a career in civil engineering. I imagined myself one day accomplishing something like these, to make my own mark on the canvas of this world. It has now been a decade, and I understand that what I naively envisioned myself becoming years ago, no longer exists as a profession. What I imagined was something akin to what was once called a master builder.

A master builder was a synthesis of what we today call an architect, an engineer, a project manager, and an artist. Their knowledge was gained by trial and error and through passed-on wisdom. Design was not optimized, but built on rules of thumb and proportion. Master builders were not in a rush to finish; in fact, many of their works would not be completed in their lifetime. Beauty was not seen in opposition to the use and purpose of what they built, but rather as an integral part of its purpose. The product they created was meant to honor the space it occupied. In other words, they would not forsake paying the cost of beauty for the sake of erecting it; the reason something was deemed worthy to erect was the beauty itself.

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It may be obvious at this point how this picture differs from what we see in the modern world. Even for one who has no exposure to engineering, it is clear that we are missing something we once had. I have read countless posts and articles that lament the many ways the industrial revolution and enlightenment values have fundamentally changed our world. Summarized, these grievances could fall into three general categories: beauty, meaning, and longevity.

Right now, if you were to stand before the cathedral of Notre Dame, you would encounter a beauty that would stir your soul. Flying buttresses, rose windows, arches, sculptures — each feature there to call your imagination to higher things. It’s been said that architecture is frozen music, and here you encounter a symphony.

Find the rest of An Engineer’s Lament and more in The Lottura Post Issue No. 12. Preorders open now.

Art by Talitha Katalayi

By Renee Eiler

In one of my favorite poems of all time, Lord Byron once penned the heart of what many feel on a daily basis:

“I would I were a careless child,

Still dwelling in my Highland cave,

Or roaming through the dusky wild,

Or bounding o’er the dark blue wave...”

There was a time in my life when I had all but forgotten what it meant to be a child. I forgot how to smile. I forgot how to laugh. I forgot what it meant to play and to truly live rather than merely survive. I don’t believe I am alone in this. Many, once they have crossed the threshold into adulthood, have lost what true joy is. We stare at children with fondness and sadness, remembering, only vaguely, how it felt to be so carefree. We ponder at what point we began to feel the weight of the world. The threshold into adulthood is rather ambiguous.

Adulthood does not begin at the same time for everyone. Some were ushered into the responsibility of adulthood far sooner than is within our design. Others enter much later than they should have or wanted to for any number of reasons. For a few, the threshold is so subtle and so unexpected, they have no idea it has come until one day they wake up and they are no longer a careless child.

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This was my story. Heartbreak after heartbreak, sorrow after sorrow, the weight of today added upon yesterday’s weight had brought me to a point of deep soul sadness. It was the feeling that tomorrow will be no different than today. It was the inability to smile simply because you feel like smiling. It was the realization that you are still exhausted despite getting plenty of sleep. It was the reality of having adopted a standard pocketbook of answers when casual conversation leads someone to ask how you are doing ---- do I tell them the truth? Do I pretend I am fine? Do I give the same answer as everyone else?

The truth felt extreme. Perhaps you know the reason why you feel this way, or perhaps you cannot pinpoint one moment or one event but this does not take away from how things are. The feeling of losing something that used to be vital to who you are as a human can be terrifying. It is as the Mad Hatter said to Alice in the 2010 film, “You’re not the same as you were before. You were much more... ‘muchier.’ You’ve lost your ‘muchness.’”

This is a sad scene, indeed, for the viewers who watch Alice come face-to-face with the truth of the matter: through some series of events or passage of time, she has become someone she doesn’t recognize, and someone that those closest to her -- the ones who really knew her before -- do not recognize either.

A great deal of this world has lost its “muchness.” We have allowed one thing after another to steal away innocence, peace, happiness, and a true, deeper meaning to who we were made to be. It is a shame, too, that it is not only adults who are polluted by this – it is the children, as well. The world is overflowing with confusion and chaos in this day and age, and while all of our childhoods were far from perfect in varying ways, we can unanimously agree that many of our thought processes, what made us happy, what we looked forward to, the things we wanted or didn’t want, were generally much less complicated than they feel today. Why is this? Why does the age of adulthood and the process of maturity bring with it such haggling?

Children have a great deal of “muchness” quite naturally. They are vibrant, curious, ready to learn, and creative. They generally do not muddle the waters of choice. From the moment they wake to the moment they fall asleep, children are clear on what they want. What they want may not always be correct or wise, but there is little to no hemming and hawing about it.

Yet as we grow older, the choices somehow begin to feel complex. We feel pressured by others to go one way or the other, and the weight of responsibility for our choices falling upon our spouse, our children, our siblings, etc. gives us pause, sometimes leading to procrastination. And, as adults, the truth of life’s sorrows and wrong choices create muck and grime within our hearts and minds, clouding the view that we would otherwise have toward what is right and good. Our naivete is gone.

What does it take to have the heart of a carefree child again? How do we regain our “muchness?”

The beginning step that brought my own soul out of the valley of the shadow of death was the moment when I recognized, apart from victimhood, that I had lost my “muchness.”

It may be daunting to admit that something is missing, because doing so requires change to follow. It requires that we let go of what we have been holding onto, whether that is a painful memory, an addiction, a need for sorrow, or whatever may arise for you.

Hope cannot flourish where despondency is allowed to dwell. In order for change to take root, retrieving a lost companion in adulthood is vital: the companion of creativity. We will need creativity to look in new ways at what has gone amiss; creativity to develop new habits, new internal spaces, and new imaginings.

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The desire to create has been etched within us from the moment we came into existence; morphing, growing, and taking shape as we develop. Yet, when our vision has become clouded by other things, creativity loses its place. We forget how to create. The muscle becomes atrophied. Could it be, dear readers, that this one muscle we all possess, though it may take work to find it and use it again, is a link to our

“muchness?”

Perhaps if we begin to ponder how we may each, in small ways, create a sense of something new – bright, even – in our hearts, it may translate to a newness in our lives? Darkness cannot dwell where the light has invaded; the light will always win. Remember what made you smile before. Remember what stirred your soul to the truth. Look to the end of the tunnel, so that we may enter into a place where light does not dwindle.

Choose simplicity and purity over convenience, however that may expand. Make way for a process that will not necessarily be done as quickly as possible, but as purely as possible; a process that, despite the unknowns and the mess, is bubbling over with intentionality, creativity, patience, and beauty – a beauty that is sourced and sustained outside of anything that we could merely muster up ourselves.

The Lottura Post is a monthly newspaper for those who feel inspired to step away from technology and towards what's in front of them. To read more from the May issue, you can grab an archive from our website.

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On a quiet afternoon in a small Midwest town (population: 991), the June 2026 issue of The Lottura Post comes to life at a print shop that has been operating since 1954. Inside, the process is at once mechanical, sensory, and deeply human.

The press itself is a 1986 Heidelberg offset printing press; a hulking, minivan-sized machine with German-labeled knobs and a bilingual manual. It whirs and clatters like an overworked washing machine, pushing out between 3,500 and 4,000 sheets per hour, per side. For a standard ten-page issue of The Lottura Post, the full run takes roughly four to five hours to complete.

Offset printing works through a precise choreography of three main rollers: plate, ink, and impression. Each newspaper page is first etched onto an aluminum plate. That plate is mounted onto a rotating cylinder in the machine.

Next, black ink — sourced from a solar-powered manufacturer in Minnesota — feeds into the system and adheres only to the imaged areas of the plate. The imaged areas, now appropriately inked, are transferred from the plate onto a second roller.

Paper, stacked in 50-pound sheets from a Nebraska distributor, is drawn through the press one at a time. An impression roller presses the paper against the inked roller, transferring the image cleanly onto its surface. The transfer of ink onto the paper, also termed “offset,” is what gives the machine its name.

The process depends on balance. Ink and water must be carefully regulated so that images and texts are neither too saturated nor too faint. Every knob on the machine allows for micro-adjustments and must be attended to throughout the process. Even then, variability is expected. About 10-15% extra sheets are always printed to account for printing inconsistencies.

As the printed sheets exit the press, they are dusted with a fine white powder to prevent them from sticking to each other in a stack. The ink—almost gasoline-like in scent—lingers in the air.

Ian, who took over the shop two years ago with a background in art and bookmaking, describes the work simply: “I love the industrial side of it. I’d rather make 1,000 of something than just five.” It’s a sentiment that captures the rhythm of the place — repetition, precision, and the quiet satisfaction of scale.

We have learned many lessons since releasing our first issue of The Lottura Post. Now, we find ourselves making adjustments to apply those lessons we’ve learned. We’re becoming more of who we are, and were always meant to be, and part of that is operating as a publication, rather than a platform.

The nature of a platform can be seen in how social media operates. It’s a place where people can put whatever they want into the world, and where anybody can come and consume. The content itself is decided on by the one putting it out there – everyone is responsible for themselves. Clearly, social media is universally used for a reason, and many people are using their platforms for great good. But, what is tried-and-true for print media, is the practice of operating as a publication.

A publication is different from a platform in that not anyone can print anything they would like, but instead, there is more guidance, restraint, and structure. There are great reasons for that, which is why we are clarifying our position on this topic.

As we were navigating and reflecting through our first months as a newspaper, we came to the realization that we had been acting more-so as a platform. We were largely publishing content as we had received it, with only minor grammatical editing. But following our reflections, we felt that in order to reach the high standards we had set for ourselves, there needed to be more structure into how we went about publishing these works. Structure is not a bad thing – without it, can there truly be sustainable growth? We are working towards holding a more refined structure as we edit each article before it is published. This looks like asking our writers to make certain points stronger, or to take a strong phrase and develop the piece more in that direction.

We felt a good question to ask was, “what is the point of editing?” It is not twisting words or playing with the intention of the article, but lending a guiding hand. We at Lottura often talk about the importance of community, friendship, and growing together, and it is those concepts that we are bringing into how we structure our paper. We all want to be better writers, and we want to healthily challenge each other towards that. When someone from the outside looking in offers suggestions on an article, it opens up a world of ideas that were closed off while you were inside your “writing bubble.”

With each new issue of The Lottura Post that we put out, we better learn what feels true to us, and what our readers are deeply enjoying. We want to place the best possible work in front of our readers for not only their sake, but also for our writers’ sake. Ultimately, the more you work closely with someone, the more you learn about their strengths and interests. With that, you can better guide the editing and keep it true to the writer. We believe that the best writing is put forward when it’s based on a steady and refined relationship.

Looking behind the scenes, we are deep in the process of planning our second year of newspapers (to begin in September 2026). We are taking great effort to bring a freshness and excitement to year two, as we really care about our readers and want to provide an engaging and intentional publication. We have to work ahead to make sure we are developing these concepts well, and we want to push ourselves to bring in new aspects to our writing and editing. Year two will bring articles that require heavier research, and a willingness to take time to develop the rich ideas that we are aiming for.

Our team has the desire to be good writers, and we want to provide our readers with good writing – it all takes effort. We are presenting ourselves with the questions of, “How can we better ourselves?” and “How can we honor our audience and the people who have a desire to engage with us?” We have some grand ideas as to how our papers can expand beyond simple, seasonal themes, and with it, it will begin to become applicable to individuals beyond women. Our hope is that year two of Lottura will be applicable and enjoyable to all walks of life – men, and women alike.

In our newspaper, The Lottura Post, we have a dedicated page called our “community page.” This is a space that will always be open to submissions of completed works to be considered for publication. We want to be a space that allows people to have an opportunity to see their work in print. This can include anything from essays, poetry, photos with excerpts, or really anything that you allow your imagination to come up with.

On our website, we have a page titled “submit your work,” where you can view the upcoming issues we are accepting work for, and what those general themes are. Having some guidelines has really leveled up the quality of submissions, which is a great example of how some intentional structure can help individuals thrive – it provides freedom for creativity.

When we started this newspaper, we didn’t know what it was going to become, and it was exciting to have so many guest writers that believed in our mission. We want to deeply thank them for how they helped us form our voice. To have so many individuals spurring us on towards greatness provided the ultimate encouragement to push this newspaper to its fullest potential. The high standards we hold for ourselves, while attainable, will take time to achieve. The process we have walked through, and are still walking through, is essential to achieving our dreams. Thank you deeply to everyone who has put their time and energies towards this beautiful publication, and we look forward to continuing to better it for you, our dear readers.

To contribute towards our community pages and be a part of what we’re doing with The Lottura Post, submit your work here, or email it directly to telegraph@lottura.com.

Listen to our most recent podcast here

The Lottura Post is a newspaper created with the intention to combat the noise and overwhelm of the digital age. Meet our founder, Kristine, and get in depth answers to how we started, difficulties along the way, what kind of content you’ll find in the paper, and the heart behind why we began this journey.

Send any questions you want answered in our next episode to:

kristine@lottura.com or bailey@lottura.com

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By Renee Eiler | Kansas City, MO

There is a revolution beginning.

As humans with curious natures, we long for our souls to know — to truly know — what it is to be.

We desire, deep within the cracks and the crevices of who we are, to live in a way that embodies all that we believe. We catch glimpses of it when we see color upon color light up the sky in the evenings, or when we work the ground and reap the benefits of our labors through picking our own strawberries or smelling our own flowers. It is there when our hands touch a new life, fresh from the womb, and something in us says, “I am home.” We feel it in little hands reaching up for ours during a barefoot walk in the grass. We know what it is to be when we come away from a soul-catching time with a friend. It is felt when we retrieve a fresh-baked loaf of bread from the oven. It is experienced when our souls recognize that they have purpose and meaning in more than fame or money or materials. We know it when we hear a song that touches our hearts and brings a tear to our eyes, not because we are sad, but because we are living. These moments and so many more are the moments we return to over and over to remember what it is to be. Our body is meant to express beauty and when we tend it, we are one step closer to bearing the full image of beauty.

This is where beauty originates: in the ordinary. In what we already possess. In the choice to take all that this world calls “mundane” or “simple” or “ineffective” and seek to make it the most impressionable thing that could be. This is not done by adding more or giving into the idea that if we could just fix this, then we would better represent beauty. Beauty will not arise so long as we always look outside of what we have already been given.

Beauty is the portal: the portal to truth. It is the key to all five senses. It is the gate to our growth. It is the breath to a life-altering reality. It is the remedy for an illness of mediocrity that has humanity bound. It is world-changing peace. And it rises from the earth as if it is part of it, an intrinsic and binding reaction to the created and the Creator…like the dew in a spring morning, like the grass that grows from the dirt beneath our feet, like the mother bird who chooses so carefully which branches and twigs and leaves will become a part of her dwelling space. It is meant to be.

..find the rest at The Lottura Post

“Beauty will save the world.” - Dostoevsky