|
Finding Joy
It’s so quiet. Unnaturally quiet. I’m sitting on my couch, looking out my window, which often has a nice view of the town at the base of my hill, and I am struggling to see the main street. All I see is white. All I hear is nothing. No wind, no birds chirping, no children laughing, no car horns honking, no music playing from cars down below.
Just quiet. No noise at all. The apple I’m chewing is creating a sound similar to that feedback from malfunctioning headphones. I stop chewing. Its quiet again.
The news is right in front of me. California is burning, and while the nearest fire is some 200 miles north of my house, the birds on my street know its there. Coyotes that roam my neighborhood know its there. Lucy knows its there—she’s made it evident in being more subdued over the past few days. The smoke is so thick in the Bay Area that many people are wearing masks, even while driving their cars. My spin class, usually outside on a terrace at my gym, is now being awkwardly held in front of the treadmills, causing congestion on the way to the weight machines.
I’m reminded of a text I got on Friday from a friend: “I’m struggling to find joy in the hard times” she wrote. Yeah. Just now I was walking along the water near my house, chatting with my dear friend Dessa over the phone, when our conversation was cut off by an intercom from the nearby Coast Guard station. A person was in the water near the north end of the Golden Gate Bridge. “What is it?” Dessa asked. Three Coast Guard workers sprinted to their boat and drove off. “Oh my God, Dessa, someone must have jumped.”
I looked up at the bridge, there right in front of me, surrounded by fire smoke and breathed a deep breath of love for that individual. We got off the phone, and here I am, in the quiet again.
I’m not writing this to depress you, although these things do depress me, especially when I focus on them. I’m writing to share my experience, but also to offer some hope, some joy and some love to everyone reading this. I believe we are living through a dark time right now, but with that darkness is an incredible amount of joy available to us, around us at all times.
The moment that friend texted me on Friday, I happened to be driving home from San Francisco listening to “Vogue” by Madonna. I was feeling the music and singing at the top of my lungs. Because, why not? After that, I sang/listened to “Free Your Mind” by En Vogue. I screenshotted both songs and sent them to my friend. In that moment, those songs were bringing me joy. I also felt some love for Madonna, and wondered how she was doing. And then started wondering that if Tyler and I ever move to Lisbon, if we’d be friends with her (she’s a resident). All of these thoughts cycled through my mind in a split second. When I came out of my Madonna daydream, I realized I was happier, having spent some mental space on things other than what was on CNN.
Last night Tyler and I sat on the couch like we normally do to watch a few Netflix shows. As I was getting comfortable, Lucy came up right between my legs and laid down, placing her head on my knee. I couldn’t believe it. As affectionate as she is, she never cuddles up to us unless she has an ulterior motive (i.e. belly rubs). She stayed there for a full hour. My leg went numb and I didn’t care. She was sleeping and I had tears in my eyes because of how much I love her. This is her as she woke up, hugging my leg.
Lately I’ve been trying to smile more at strangers. A lot more. I smile at the people driving by me. I try to smile at the people who cut me off at Starbucks. I sometimes forget to do this and scowl instead and then realize I’m in my head thinking crappy thoughts. It doesn’t always work, but the intention is there. Sometimes I think that that is the ticket to joy – smiling more. I’ve had some rotten days brightened by a stranger who offered me a real smile. One second can change a life.
I was fortunate to take a poetry workshop with the amazing women behind poetry company Truth to Paper recently, and was reminded of A Brief For The Defense, a gorgeous poem by the late Jack Gilbert. I cannot imagine a piece of writing that better conveys the importance of finding joy in times like these. – I’ve bolded my favorite lines. (You can read more about Gilbert in this great piece by The Atlantic.)
A Brief For The Defense
By: Jack Gilbert
Sorrow everywhere. Slaughter everywhere. If babies
are not starving someplace, they are starving
somewhere else. With flies in their nostrils.
But we enjoy our lives because that’s what God wants.
Otherwise the mornings before summer dawn would not
be made so fine. The Bengal tiger would not
be fashioned so miraculously well. The poor women
at the fountain are laughing together between
the suffering they have known and the awfulness
in their future, smiling and laughing while somebody
in the village is very sick. There is laughter
every day in the terrible streets of Calcutta,
and the women laugh in the cages of Bombay.
If we deny our happiness, resist our satisfaction,
we lessen the importance of their deprivation.
We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure,
but not delight. Not enjoyment. We must have
the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless
furnace of this world. To make injustice the only
measure of our attention is to praise the Devil.
If the locomotive of the Lord runs us down,
we should give thanks that the end had magnitude.
We must admit there will be music despite everything.
We stand at the prow again of a small ship
anchored late at night in the tiny port
looking over to the sleeping island: the waterfront
is three shuttered cafés and one naked light burning.
To hear the faint sound of oars in the silence as a rowboat
comes slowly out and then goes back is truly worth
all the years of sorrow that are to come.
Very important disclaimer: I am *still* in the “delicate flower” phase of this newsletter, so I would like to request zero feedback - Z.E.R.O. - other than overtly positive comments (i.e. “love it, Katie!” “this is awesome!”). I may want constructive feedback on this project at some point, but today is not that point. Thanks for understanding and respecting the delicate flower inside me.
|
|
Smoothies & Me: A (One-Sided) Love Story
In an effort to find a new breakfast routine - I'm in an egg-hating phase at the moment - I decided to order a Magic Bullet. At just $29.99 on Amazon, I thought - what the heck - and bit the bullet (I'm hilarious). It arrives two days later and I decide to go ALL IN. I'm going make the best fucking smoothie on the planet and I'm going to regulate my blood sugar in the process and this will help me in all food categories, oh my god this is going to be the best thing ever. I saw the blender and was immediately in love.
If you ask the Magic Bullet how it felt about me, you would have gotten a different take. The first time I made a smoothie, I crammed so many things into that little cup that I had to pour out portions of the half-made smoothie into multiple bowls while making a disaster of my kitchen. Ah, no biggie, I thought. I'm just learning! The second time was worse. And I was in a crap mood, which meant that I CAN'T MAKE SMOOTHIES = I'M A FAILURE AT LIFE. In the middle of that thought-bubble tornado, elbows deep (I wish I was kidding) in purple smoothies, Tyler walks over, gently tries to help me while not saying a word (smart), and then gives me a pointer: "You might want to put in the almond butter at the bottom and the tough stuff closer to the blade at the top, that way it will chop it more efficiently."
I grunt at him (and internally take notes).
The third time was the best. I did as Tyler suggested and BAM BAM BAM, my blueberry smoothie ended up with the perfect proportions. WINNING. Thrilled with myself and working alone from home that day, I downed that blueberry smoothie and walked outside with Lucy. It was at that moment that I ran into Jeanne, our new neighbor. I was on my third cup of coffee (superhero status here - like WHOA - and was basically at an 11). Jeanne, on the other hand, was at a calm 3 on the energy scale. I threw my hands in the air, "OMG you're our new neighbor!!" And proceeded to chat with her for a solid 10 minutes about how great our street is, how happy I am that she's moved in (I don't know anything about this woman), etc. etc. You get the idea.
I walk in my house, still smiling ear to ear, and go to the bathroom to wash my hands. It's at that moment that I come face to face with monster smoothie face. Seriously, folks, imagine a cartoon of a two-year-old that has just eaten a purple smoothie. Crusted purple juice a half inch around the mouth on all sides, pieces of blueberries lodged between every tooth, teeth a dark shade of purple.
My heart fell to my feet as I crouched down below the sink vanity, trying to make myself feel better by being physically smaller. About 15 minutes of mortification went by before I was able to laugh about it and text Tyler. He was mortified for me.
I have yet to meet Jeanne again. Still loving the smoothie maker, but fighting for it to love me back.
|
|
|
|
Things that are bringing me joy right now:
- Giving Tyler a hug
- Giving Lucy a hug
- Doing a 10-min meditation with the Calm app
- Calling a friend or family member
- Watching a clip of Ellen on YouTube
- Walking around a bookstore
- Staring into space for five minutes
- Lying on my living room rug, staring at the ceiling for 10 minutes
|
|
|
What I'm watching right now
Patriot Act with Hasan Minhaj on Netflix. I'm a huge Minhaj fan, and this is his take on The Daily Show, done in a stand-up format. He's incredibly smart and quick-witted. Worth a watch.
|
|
|
|
|
