you can. i gotta keep telling myself.
.
yesterday, i turned 36 and took a stroll around the city as i have over my last few birthdays. people watching, practicing mindfulness, popping into shops, and eating some great food along the way. the simple things that allow presence and gratitude fill me up.
.
after a beautiful lunch honoring south asian women, i walked into the lush and wonderfully curated rizzoli bookstore. almost immediately, i became emotional; all the books were people’s stories and hearts all around me— all the labor, love, tenderness, pain, fervor, triumph, quirks and imperfections of all these human journeys. all these individual truths laid out to be witnessed.
.
it felt sacred. i found my fingertips grazing the covers, soaking in the simple profundity of this recognition and reality; wanting to intentionally sit and be with all that was in front of me.
.
one of the first titles i stopped to pick up was ‘dark money’ by jane mayer— a book that had been recommended to me about a year ago when canvassing for the midterm elections. it’s about how a few billionaire families have been puppeteering american politics and what we should know + perhaps do about it. that shit heavy.
.
as i was putting that book down, a guy walked up and reached around me to drop back a book he had been browsing— ‘homo deus’ by yuval noah harari, a renowned oxford educated historian. harari’s titles had also been recommend to me, one of which happens to be the top book reco of mark zuckerberg and bill gates. ‘homo deus,’ which postulates on the future of humanity, is the second in a triology— first is ‘sapiens,’ a history of humanity, and third is ‘21 lessons for the 21st century,’ a prescription for moving forward in light of the dystopia harari predicts and maps out in ‘homo deus.’ based off the book jacket, let’s just say that the future feels awful bleak and inhuman.
.
i felt myself buzzing and lightheaded, hoping to take flight outside of my body somewhere— a place where i didn’t need to make sense of things.
.
(1/3 | continued in comments)
tell the truth. my carpal tunnel type hand and arm cramps kicked back in recently for the first time in a few years. it forced me to use my phone and social media less than the excessive amounts i normally do.
.
even though my hand aches quite a bit at times, i am grateful for the message of the pain. i’m grateful for even a semi-break— better than none at all.
.
what a fucking relief. the shift in my mood and energy any time i temper my phone and/or social media use is wild.
.
social media and mobile phone addiction is real. over the last couple years, it’s really come through for me as a disruptive and troubling force. still sorting/not sorting/probably avoiding this whole thing.
.
that’s my truth to share of late. what would you like to tell the truth about if you feel called, i encourage you to bring your truth into this space as well as into your material world life, and let the load off. others may well need to hear it, including me <3
note to self. thank you:
.
- for sticking around when it gets tough
- for being nice to me even when you hate me
- for fighting for me
- for trying
- for telling me to shut up when i need to
- for letting me be imperfect
- for knowing my heart
- for that glimmer of hope anytime it gets dark, which can be often
- for being silly with me
- for the great conversation
- for not staying mad at me for too long, you know i’m sensitive
- for the dance parties
- for loving me, even when i don’t understand why
- for being my best friend
love you love you love you.
let’s remember to recognize ourselves more often for how we are showing up for ourselves.
you are alive and breathing. for everything you think you’re not doing, there is something you *are* doing. don’t you dare not give yourself credit. the mundane is significant. perhaps the most significant.
please take this as an invitation to share how *you* are thanking *you*. i would love to know and celebrate alongside <3
<3 // and i love you still.