Notes From Recent Weeks
What I've been jotting down lately
I’ve carried a notebook with me for as long as I can remember. Writing full essays is newer, but the note-taking has always been there. Half-formed ideas, questions I’m sitting with, things I notice. Here are a few from recent weeks:
People love to give back. People want to help. I keep being surprised by how much people want to show up when you actually ask. Not in a performative way, but genuinely. The friends who offer to watch my kids when I mention being overwhelmed. The neighbor who brings soup without being asked. Maybe we assume people are too busy or don’t care, but I think most people are just waiting for permission to show up for each other.
Most kids experience life more fully than we do. When did I stop lying on the ground to watch clouds? When did I decide that spinning until I’m dizzy isn’t worth it? Lincoln notices everything—the way light hits the wall, sounds I’ve learned to tune out. Somewhere along the way, we trade wonder for efficiency. How do we lose so much after childhood, and how do we protect what’s left?
We have to make the choice to slow down enough to think about what we do today will affect tomorrow.
Maybe play is more essential now than ever. I try to do things just because they’re fun - not productive, not improving, just delightful. But I notice how many people around me have forgotten how to play, how they apologize for enjoying things that aren’t “useful.” Why do we need to justify delight?
I need to allow myself both grief and joy. Not avoid either one, not try to fix them or rush through them. Just let myself feel them. The more I can do that, the more real I feel. Like I’m actually living my life instead of managing it.
Does death make me feel more alive? Or does it just make me sad?
It’s not about always being around the most awe-inducing nature, but about noticing it.
Is there more than one way to use the word “flaccid”?
Making time for yourself. Treat it like a spiritual discipline in a way that you rearrange your life around it. I’m learning this means saying no to things that seem important but aren’t essential, blocking out time before anyone else can claim it, and refusing to feel guilty about it. Self-care isn’t selfish when it’s what keeps you able to show up for everyone else.
Nothing feels more personal than reading a book and stumbling upon a thought you’ve had your whole life but never knew how to say.
Snail mail is a word hug.