#1: physical reminders
nudges to love, notice, and be present (1/100)
Playing around with newsletter formats - I’d like to do somewhat regular life updates while I travel and might experiment with form the entire time.
6.15.22 - 6.30.22
I still find myself bowing slightly, an almost imperceptible nod anytime I say hello and thank you. It’s the remnant of a habit learned from a recent trip to Korea. This hard to shake gesture has been unexpectedly comforting — it is a constant physical reminder of the time that I spent with friends laughing through stuffed stomachs and chasing long days with tart yogurt smoothies, proof of a brief period where I felt completely present.
It’s a habit of respect that I loved during my trip and now my tiny nods not only feed a feeling of nostalgia, but an increased awareness of the strangers in my life. There are other habits which act as physical reminders that I find myself missing. I miss the smile that has slowly slipped behind masks. I used to hug everyone all the time before the pandemic, a tendency that has not yet made a full comeback. It wasn’t until recently that I noticed the effects of my embraces: my hugs are an automatic reminder of my love for my friends, and any nudge towards affection is something to appreciate. The everyday, physical actions are so important — they inadvertently remind me to love, to notice, to be present. And if everyone collectively decides to participate in the same habits, perhaps that is how a culture shifts.
* * *
I woke up today with this feeling that I didn’t quite fill myself, like my skin didn’t quite fit anymore. Or maybe that I was looking at myself from a third person view. A friend described it as the ego floating because your motivations do not fill up the space they previously had. It’s uncomfortable and unsettling and I wonder if it has anything to do with the unknowns of starting summer research in Switzerland hoping for a polarizing experience so that I can decide whether a PhD is something I want to do.
Ten days was enough to mirror the faces of my companions, to adjust to friendly roasting, to learn to bow with my greetings; I’m looking forward to seeing what I absorb in two months.
If she must grow roots, she would rather be left to flourish wild instead of pruned, would rather stand alone, allowed to grow beneath the open sky.
― V.E. Schwab, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue
Watching
Fantastic Fungi - would recommend just for the beautiful time-lapses of various fungi and their breathtaking blooming patterns, but also a great companion to How to Change Your Mind and my tree book.
Our Planet - I’ve been watching episodes of nature documentaries at night before sleeping and it is possibly one of the best ways to say goodnight.
Reading
All About Love by Bell Hooks. For as much I value and talk about love, I have never tried very hard to define it. I’m learning to break down love’s components and define what I truly need.
The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. This week is about recovering a sense of possibility. “What are my needs? What would I do if it weren’t too selfish? What would I try if it weren’t too crazy?”
Want to try
Commonplace books are places to collect information and thoughts encountered: basically every note you’ve ever taken but in one huge volume. I’ve failed to do this consistently with digital note-taking apps, but really love this idea of a physical book.
Dogs spotted
