2025-03-10 09:27:01
You’re doing everything for the first time.
Every single thing.
Even the things you do over and over are new, because you’re always new.
Life might look the same on the outside, but the person you are today isn’t the person you were last week.
No wonder it’s scary.
No wonder you tune out and go through the motions. (Stay detached.)
No wonder you clench your fists and grind your teeth. (Hold yourself together.)
No wonder you wear intelligence like armor. (Don’t let yourself be wrong.)
No wonder you seek out numbness. (It’s better than terror.)
No wonder you’ve carved out the safe spaces in your mind, and that’s where you stay. (Big fences around the rest.)
It can all get pretty fucking scary.
And nobody likes to feel afraid, or overwhelmed, or inept.
You’re so new. (We’re so new.)
The new never goes away. (We like to pretend it does.)
And even if we can predict life, we can’t predict how we’ll feel about life.
You’re so new.
Go easy, go soft, slow down, step lightly.
I’m new too.
I’ll hold your hand.
The trick is
To be humble
Without becoming small.
(What I want you to know is that you are loved.)
2025-03-05 08:44:09
Start by running out of toilet paper, or getting dangerously close. There’s living on the edge, and then there’s running out of toilet paper.
Perhaps you keep extra toilet paper rolls neatly stacked under the sink. I do that.
But the strange beasties with whom I share this bathroom will never ever not in a million years mention when they’ve moved the last backup tp roll from under the sink to active use.
Which is why I check, frequently, the stock under the sink.
So do that. It’s a good first step to cleaning the bathroom. Use the toilet, as per usual. Check the under-sink stock. Realize the absolute last roll is in active use and getting low. Shake your head. Think about all the fun life lessons ahead for these young humans. Wash your hands. Look around.
Wow. Could use a good cleaning.
Don’t have time for a good cleaning right now, though. It’s 11:37am on a Tuesday and you have a pile of things to do. Grab a few of those antibacterial wipes you’ve been stocking since the first pandemic year. Wipe down the sink. Get a few more. Wipe down the toilet, or at least some of it. We’re not tackling all those little curves and hair-collecting spots. Whoever designed the modern toilet has clearly never been in charge of cleaning one. Spray some cleaning spray in the toilet bowl, swish it around with a brush. Wash your hands again.
Walk next door to the grocery store and buy a pack of toilet paper.
Back to work.
Drink some tea. Drink more water. Have a sparkling water with lunch. Dance at your standing desk while you proofread a draft. Wonder why you’re dancing. Your feet hurt. You want to sit down. Realize you’re not dancing dancing, you’re I need to pee dancing. Wonder why you’re so out of touch with your own fundamental physical needs. Think about your childhood. Realize you’re about to sneeze. DANGER 🚨 DANGER 🚨 DANGER. Sprint (with clenched legs) to the bathroom.
Bliss.
Wash your hands. Look at the mirror. It is mostly toothpaste flecks with a little reflective surface in between. Grab a few more antibacterial wipes and clean it. Are they meant for mirrors? No. Will they work? Yes. Who needs a streak-free surface, anyhow?
Throw the wipes away only to have them bounce off the small mountain of precariously stacked items “in” the bathroom trash can. The tiny, tiny bathroom trash can which is now “holding” 5.7 cubic liters of used-up bathroom things.
Empty the trash can. Return it to the bathroom and, unfortunately, notice the floor beneath the trash can. Sigh the deep, deep sigh of a person who knows what lies ahead.
Deal with it. Throw the rug in the dirty laundry bin. Throw all the towels in the dirty laundry bin, why not? Run down the stairs to the laundry room, wincing the whole way because for some reason you decided to do a lot of squats at the gym yesterday. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
Back to work.
Kids are home. Annoy them with questions. Tell them helpful things about the writing homework and nonsensical things about the math homework. Respond to 17 text messages. Walk into the bathroom while responding to the 17th. Do your thing. Wash your hands. Pick up the phone from where you set it on the edge of the bathtub. Notice all the fuzzies and stray hairs on the edge of the bathtub. Wipe it down. Tackle the rest of those little toilet crevices while you’re at it. Might as well. Wash your hands again.
Demand that a child retrieve the clean, dry towels and rug from the laundry facilities. Cite your status as the dictator of the household as well as your very sore and tired old-person legs. Threaten as needed with your absolute power over the grocery inventory.
Have dinner. Watch a show. Decide what your sore legs need the most is a hot soak. Throw the clean rug back on the bathroom floor. Set down your book and your beverage, turn on the water in the tub, look at the tub, turn off the water. Get the spray and the scrubby-sponge thing. Spray. Scrub. Rinse. That’s better. Wash your hands for the 1000th time today. Run the water. Ease into the delicious warmth, feel all your muscles relax. Look around.
How nice. A clean bathroom. Only took all day.
2025-03-02 11:59:29
Meh.
Read this in one day. It was easy to read and I ended up skimming a lot of boring parts (all the flashbacks to the main character’s relationship with his wife). The ending was not a surprise. Overall, just a big meh to this book. The survival situation was what interested me and there was some good stuff but a lot of it was skimmed over. “I made a sled out of the wing.” Okay, HOW? How did you make a sled out of the wing? You just pulled it off the plane? The medical parts were detailed and interesting, I don’t know how accurate though. I mean, I feel like they’d have both been dead by day 3 realistically but I wasn’t exactly there for the realism. Both characters were okay. I don’t know. They didn’t grab me. If they had died, I’d have felt nothing much. As it was, they survived but AT WHAT COST TO ME, THE READER?
The dog was great, at least.
Their whole love story was just trauma bonding, for real, and the guy’s I have big emotional barriers and am closed off to love schtick was not intriguing but DUMB and the ending was also dumb.
I feel like this could have been a good book if it was mostly completely different.
Easy read, YA, teen girl main character. Set-up for our protag’s experience is annoying only because I myself am not a teenager. The survival parts (what I went for) are detailed and gritty, which I liked. Great? No. Enjoyable? Yes.
She turned away and listened as Clara talked about what had happened. To Peter. It was a story Myrna knew well. She’d been there. But still she listened, and she’d listen again. And again. And with every telling Clara was letting go of a bit of the unbearable pain. The guilt she felt. The sorrow. It was as though Clara was pulling herself out of the ocean, dripping in grief, but no longer drowning.
Can’t go wrong with Inspector Gamache.
It’s okay to be optimistic, but I can’t let myself feel the stab of every disappointment—or I’ll leak from all the holes in my heart.
Pretty writing, hometown magic vibe, slightly dark edges but happy resolution. No surprises, sweet characters. The emotional themes were hammered in about 40% more than needed, I felt. I skimmed a good bit.
Well, hm. So I love how Auel describes the landscape, the scenery, the seasons, the slow but inevitable huge shifts happening in nature. And I enjoy the detail of “bushcraft” provided (even with the unbelievable coincidences that happen with finding just the right thing at just the right time). Beyond that, the characters are okay, the dialogue is so-so at best and absolutely awful at worst. And then there are the sexy times. Look, I don’t mind a little spicy action in a book, but I can only read about “his manhood” so many times in one book.
Interesting world but just not the feel/mood for me right now. Couldn’t get into it. The writing is great. I might revisit this one at some point.
Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir
Might come back for this one another time.
She didn’t. She got the depression. She lay in her cell, picking at life like it was a meal she didn’t want to eat.
The Crash by Freida McFadden
Fine. Okay. I got bored.
Radical Compassion by Tara Brach
This book could have been a blog post.
2025-03-02 00:44:42
What’s the situation, and what can I do about it?
There are two steps I need to take when there’s something upsetting but complex to deal with: a situation outside of my scope, or a crisis, an emergency, financial issues, global changes or things I don’t understand or relational conflict or whatever.
I remind myself of a few things.
I try to approach it with two specific tools in hand.
These are the things I need to be reminded of when I am in the midst of an upsetting, confusing, overwhelming situation:
I have made a choice to not let fear be the dominating force of my life.
My life is better when I believe in free will.
I set the trajectory of my own life with each tiny decision I make.
How I feel does not have to determine how I act.
Action without clarity tends to increase confusion.
There are a few other things but those are the main ones.
The two little alliterative phrases below are shorthand for four beliefs I’ve chosen to adopt that help me live the way I want to live.
Absolute acceptance
Absolute acceptance means I do not avoid the reality of the situation. I need to assess what is happening, being as honest as I can. I need to quit trying to pad the sharp edges or painful parts of what is unfolding. I need to avoid exaggerating anything, either. Along the way, as big feelings or fears rise up in response to that honesty: I allow them, note them, but try not to dwell in them.
Radical responsibility
I am the only person responsible for my life: my choices, the way I use my time, my perspective, the roles I allow myself to take on, the way I use my resources, what I say Yes to, what I say No to, how I think, what I allow myself to dwell on, what I offer, how I honor my own limits, how I care for myself, how I contribute to my community, how I allow others to treat me, what I tolerate, what I stand up for, what I believe (both conscious and unconscious) and how those beliefs drive my behavior, etc.
Absolute acceptance helps me find clarity.
For any situation, there are three points of clarity to look for:
What’s the situation? The factual reality unfolding. Who is doing what, when, how, why; what are the effects?
What’s my reaction? My feelings, fears, initial thoughts, and instincts.
What’s the reality? The limits/scope of the situation, and where I fit in.
Once I have clarity, I’m able to move into figuring out what I can do about it.
What can I do? What’s within my power? What am I responsible for that is part of this situation? Where do I have authority, and where am I encroaching on someone else’s authority? What (of mine) needs to be protected in this situation? What am I responsible for that is outside of this situation? How will involving myself in this situation affect my life in other areas? How will failing to involve myself in this situation affect me or others? Who do I want to be in this situation? What can I offer? What am I not able to offer?
This seems like a long process, but it can go pretty quickly.
Here’s an example from a recent situation (modified to hide personal details). I usually just open up a blank note and start writing.
Someone I love is facing a major health issue. It’s been diagnosed and is resolving but recovery is very slow. Their energy and abilities will be very limited for months. This will be super tough; they are a busy, active person with a lot of responsibilities and interests. (That is the situation.) I empathize deeply with this person. I know it will be very difficult for them to rest, to release their normal routines and responsibilities, to accept help, to do less. I want to offer to step in and take things on. I want to help by providing some of the energy and ability they don’t have right now. I want to ease the situation as much as possible by filling in some of those gaps. (That is my reaction.) I have many responsibilities of my own. When I actually look at my calendar, there is very little open time in it. I don’t have time or ability to take on more ongoing tasks or responsibilities without shirking my own. This isn’t a quick-fix situation where I can put my stuff on hold for a few days and then catch up. (That is the reality.) I can’t do as much as I want. I can do this: visit, bring a little treat, sit and listen, text and check in. I can listen to the frustrations as someone outside the immediate circle who’s not affected by them. I can offer an outlet (as I’m able to provide that attention & emotional space). At some point, when they’re up to it, I can schedule and plan an activity they like so it’s not a burden, just an enjoyable break. (This is what I can do.)
Maybe.
I don’t think everyone needs this kind of process. But I know that I do.
For most of my life, when I’ve faced upsetting or confusing situations, I have acted according to whatever I believed would ease the tension, avoid the conflict, make people comfortable (even if I made myself terribly uncomfortable), and get us back to the familiar, normal, predictable places.
In other words, my reaction was to seek safety in the ways I knew how.
That’s a great response mechanism sometimes.
It’s a terrible response mechanism all of the time.
It’s a good response mechanism if, in that situation, safety is the highest priority. Otherwise, it’s a terrible response mechanism. To keep myself defaulting to this response, to make needed changes in my own life, to escape the cycles of placating and self-martyrdom and other dumb shit, I’ve had to get really specific with myself. I need to spell out the way I want to respond to things so I don’t fall back into the way I used to respond to things. So that’s what I do now.
Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022. Russia, under the leadership of dictator Putin, is actively trying to take over the independent nation of Ukraine. The current president of my country has just, like a diabolical puppet, attacked, accused, and denigrated President Zelensky. The current president of my country is clearly on Russia’s side, having been bought by their interference in elections. My beloved country recently sided with fucking North Korea. My beloved country is being used by Putin for his own ends and everyone at high levels of government is either okay with it or seems helpless to counteract it. The lack of support from the U.S. may well result in Ukraine losing this war to Russia, after fighting so valiantly for so long. My beloved country is a tool for dictators. My beloved country is being ransacked by billionaires. (This is the situation.)
I am sick with the knowledge of it. I feel helpless and enraged. I am sad and sick and disgusted. The more I hear about what the republican regime is doing, the more sick and overwhelmed and disgusted and enraged I feel. I am afraid of what four years of this administration will do. I am so afraid of the damage that will be done, both here at home and around the world. I am afraid of what will be lost that cannot be recovered. I don’t know how to talk to republican regime supporters about this. I don’t know how to talk to my own family members. I feel as if we have become so separated; our worldviews seemed to have some overlap before but now seem to only be opposed. I don’t know where to find common ground. I am grieving the loss of hope in my country, trust in my fellow citizens, and closeness with people I care about. (That is my reaction.)
My own powers in this situation feel minimal. The pressures and responsibilities of my own life have not eased up. In fact, if anything, they have increased in urgency. I don’t know what I can depend on as I try to care for myself and my children, so I’m trying to earn a little more and save a little more in case we, say, lose our health insurance. Meanwhile, every single day there is new ego-fueled, disgusting, destructive, thoughtless bullshittery rolling out of the White House.
If I allow much attention to go into keeping up with each nauseating development, I will not be able to maintain the energy, ability, focus, and calm I need to be there for my kids, do my job, and live my life. Despite the horrors, the laundry must be done. My time, attention, and money are very limited resources; I have important (for me) responsibilities and commitments; my scope is small.
Yet I also have other responsibilities. Despite the laundry, the horrors must be faced. I have important roles in this reality, as overwhelming as it is: As a citizen of my communities, to protect those who are hurt/in danger as I am able; as a citizen of my country, to influence it for good in whatever way I can; as a citizen of my world, to be a good neighbor to the extent of my power. (This is the reality.)
What can I do?
I can make 5 phone calls.
I can make donations, however small, to Ukraine, to the Internet Archive, to Advocates for Trans Equality, to other worthy causes.
I can speak up in any conversation I’m part of. I can refuse to overlook or normalize hatred. I can call out bullshit as bullshit.
I can get to know my neighbors more and make sure they know I am a safe person if they are in danger or need help.
I can make sure my kids let their friends know the same.
I can keep talking to my kids to make sure they have key vocabulary and concepts to accurately parse the information they receive.
I can keep stockpiling certain medicinal items that may not continue to be available.
I can remove my money from cowardly corporations that decide to endorse racism.
I can remove my attention from billionaire bullshit platforms and choose carefully where I put it.
I can be led by those living the experience so that my support is effective and meaningful.
I can get real fucking radical about protecting my time, attention, and resources so that I’m not wasting them on things that don’t have an impact. I can focus my efforts without guilt, and be okay if others don’t understand my choices.
I can write and keep writing. I can create and keep creating. I can encourage others to do the same.
I can check in on my friends.
I can keep trying to have conversations with the people I care about who see things differently because we all need to face the horrors so we can turn this thing around.
I can keep learning and being open so I can find more ways to take action and still get the laundry done.
I’ll keep adding to this list. Please feel free to share your own links, ideas, actions if you’d like.
📨 🔁 💬 Respond via email / Mastodon / Micro.blog
2025-02-26 11:12:19
Wisdom is the reward for surviving our own stupidity.
—Brian Rathbone
Why is entropy so boring?
Here's a thing that happens to me sometimes: I am doing something mundane, perhaps tying my shoe or reaching for an object or using my eyes to look at the world around me and in that simple task I do a thing that my neck doesn't like.
What is the thing? I don't know.
It seems to be "moving my neck" or perhaps it is "not moving my neck when I should be moving my neck." Communication from the neck region is inconclusive.
Pain from the neck region: conclusive.
Conclusive that whatever it is I did (or didn't do) is displeasing to the neck region.
I did it again this morning.
In the three-minute interval between getting out of bed and walking into the other room I had the audacity to think I could clothe myself without injury.
Nope.
I'm not sure if it was my bra or my socks or my goddamn yoga pants but the neck region did NOT enjoy the putting-on process of at least one of those items.
Side curse: you will always say "goddamn yoga pants" now. You cannot ever say yoga pants again without saying (or at least thinking) "goddamn" first. And! You cannot SEE yoga pants without thinking: "goddamn yoga pants." Enjoy.
The angry pain of the neck region will fade in a few hours or a few days, if the pattern holds. And I'll forget about it, until the next time I do something crrrrrrazy like bend from the waist to pick up my shoe.
If my body is going to respond with extremes when I do basic movements, couldn't we have something cooler than weird neck pain? Like: what if I sprouted feathers (temporary) instead? Or one arm had blue stripes for a while? Or my knees made a weird squeaking noise for a few days? Or what if I could hover, but only for a few seconds at a time and not consistently?
It would make aging a lot more exciting.
Goddamn yoga pants.
2025-02-25 10:47:09
The law of urgency tells us this:
By default, whatever screams the loudest will get the quickest response.
Whatever generates the most discomfort (real or imagined) will get the most attention.
The loudest things get the most attention, whether they deserve it or not.
But urgency does not equal importance. If I don’t pay careful attention to what gets my attention, I’ll run around chasing meaningless alarms, while the higher priority people and plans will get little or nothing from me.
How hard it is to tune out the urgent to focus on the important.
I struggle with this daily. Urgency fuels my anxiety, which in turn supports my belief in urgency. There are many things that feel urgent to me, and it seems impossible to relax until I get all the urgent things done. It seems impossible to settle in, to focus on the IMPORTANT things, while there are urgent things waiting for me, screaming at me.
It seems like the right thing to do, the responsible thing to do, is to tackle the urgent things. Solve the loudest problems. React to the crisis. Enter the realm of the urgent, sword in hand, and start slashing away.
That’s what heroes do, right?
They face things head-on. They find the enemy and attack. Slash! Slash! Slash! It’s courageous and noble. Or, at the very least, it’s responsible and correct. Maybe it’s not heroic, exactly… but it’s mature. I’m doing my duty. I’m being an adult. I’m dealing with it.
But something doesn’t quite work, does it?
The urgent things are never done. Squash one and two more erupt.
There are some fantasies at work in the realm of the urgent:
The fantasy that I can ever “get done” with all the urgent things.
The fantasy that I’ll be able to relax, focus, enter some better and higher mode of being once I finally reach this ideal state of being done with the urgent things.
The fantasy that these things are urgent at all. They’re not, really.
It is very, very rare that a situation of actual urgency requiring immediate action happens in my life. I’m a writer, not a paramedic. Even the stuff my kids bring me is rarely urgent. Sometimes it’s time sensitive. Time sensitive is not the same as urgent.
No one dies if I don’t solve this problem, answer this email, pay this bill, respond to this text, write this paragraph, or make this appointment right now, right this very minute.
Urgencies are a certain class of things, like yappy little dogs. If you have and love a yappy little dog, I hope you will not be personally offended by this analogy. But the thing with yappy little dogs is that they’re always yapping for no good fucking reason except that they want to, or they’re deeply insecure, or they’re having a panic attack, or they think they’re big shit when in fact they are very small shit. Or all of the above, all at the same time.
Urgencies seem like the heads of the Chaos-Hydra. They seem like important problems we must solve, big enemies we must face. In fact, they are yappy little dogs snarling and snapping at our heels, with no power except their power to claim our attention. So maybe we treat them as such: Don’t take them seriously. Put them in funny little sweaters. And tune them out while we focus on what is important.