joy
what up next
I have just 20 minutes before I hit the road to meet my favorite daughter for lunch in Scranton. I danced like a teenager last night and made a delicious breakfast and journaled this morning. And now I want to write this blog post, this moment of decision making, as I consider what kind of activity—or activities—I want to try out to give a bit of focus to my time outside of work.
Ready? Here’s the list.
- Watercolors and other fun painting. I keep watching this one TikTok painter who makes painting look super fun and therapeutic and easy, and it super duper appeals to me. She seems more into the process than the product, though a lot of the end results are pretty awesome. I’m not necessarily artistic, but I enjoy doing artsy stuff as long as I’m not judgy, and I think it’s really healthy for me to spend time on things that don’t come easily and to accept imperfections.
This one would feel good, I’d have something to show for it, and I already own almost all of the stuff I would need to do it, so it’s free and easy to do whenever I want. - Pickle ball. I’ve been hearing a lot about this activity, and I like that it would be social and get me outside and keep me active. I suck at sports in general, so it’s kinda like the painting in that it would challenge me to get into something and accept that it’s good to do, whether I’m good at it or not.
It’s a higher bar to get started. I would need to figure out where, with whom, how. I would need to buy equipment, learn how to play. I’m interested. But maybe I’ll give it a minute before I fully go for it. - Horseback riding. There are stables near me that offer lessons. This one is fully outside my comfort zone, and that’s what appeals to me—I think I will feel really good about stretching myself and learning something completely new.
I think this is kinda like the pickle ball situation. I think there’s a very good chance that I’ll get into it, but I might give it a minute to work up the energy. It also requires a monetary investment. - A book club. I already have a book club in NEPA, and I went to a couple library nights but I wasn’t a huge fan of the dynamic. But the problem here is that I don’t know many people outside of my work place. I could put a call for interested participants in a Facebook or Nextdoor community group, but there’s a huge chance I’d end up in a book club with people I’m not super excited to interact with.
Sorry if I sound picky about people here. I love almost everyone if I’m having a lighthearted conversation during happy hour, and I 100% love those times and get a kick out of people. But my current book club has such a wonderful dynamic of mutual support that I have high standards.
Maybe I’ll figure something out here. But it will probably take a minute to figure it out. - A project that would give my outings a focus. I’ve been thinking that I could do a series of posts on fun places to visit, local hidden treasures, walking trails, breweries and wineries, etc. I’m not sure. If I’m going to do something like that, I need to be all in for it to work. I’ll let it simmer on the back burner and see if it’s ever ready for moving forward.
- Boxing. There’s a boxing gym not too far away that has classes. It really appeals to me—anything that builds up strength and makes me feel like a badass tends to appeal to me. And I really prefer classes to just working out on my own. The gym is a bit pricey. And it’s kinda inconvenient—I’d have to be really good at motivating myself to get there.
A real possibility. I think either boxing or pickle ball or horse back riding will end up being next, after (or overlapping with) painting.
Or maybe just lots of hiking and kayaking if I can figure out how to transport my kayak this summer now that I have a smaller car.
My time is up. Time to head to NEPA. And I feel excited about the choices I have and the life I’m living. ❤
Pisces plunge
I have an affinity for water, and I don’t care for seafood.
***
I know nothing about astrology. I get a kick out of it when people do. My daughter is super fun when she talks about astrological signs, and I once had a student who guessed the astrological signs of every person in the classroom based on what she knew of them. She was remarkable.
But last week I was at the beach, playing in the cold cold waves, drawn into the tumult even as part of my body dreaded moving forward where I would get colder and wetter and more overwhelmed by the waves the Irish call “white horses” and that I grew up calling “white caps.” My friend Ann Marie does not care for full immersion in the ocean water, so I was a bit on my own, free to look around at the other people braving the waves.
And what I saw were smiles. Huge joyful grins. People glorying in the pleasure of the cold salty currents bandying us about.
***
Several months ago, my friend Jamie told me she was starting to do polar plunges with some friends of hers. I admired her daring spirit and thought I would never do that.
Then, recently, I heard a podcast about simple things to do to improve your happiness. One of the items was to make your shower cold for the last 15 seconds or longer. “Huh,” I thought. “I could do that.” Mind you, I had heard of such a thing many times prior and had always had the opposite reaction. Maybe I was inspired by Jamie this time? or maybe I just hadn’t been ready before and now I was. Whatever shifted, it shifted, and I’ve been doing the cold exciting shower finale ever since. I have to force myself each time. But I do it.
And every time, as I step out of the shower, I think, “Yes. They were right, those podcast people. I feel altogether better than I do when I have a regular old boring shower with regular old boring hot water for the duration.”
Or sometimes I think, “What a rush.”
***
I drink water all day long. I don’t do it because I’m supposed to. I do it because I love it.
***
My parents grew up on Cape Ann. Ann is my middle name. Or my middle name is Anne; it’s printed one way on my birth certificate and the opposite way on my social security card, so I guess my middle name is Ann some days and Anne with an “e” other days. Or maybe the two names don’t take turns but instead are always smushed together, making my middle name Ann with half of an “e” every day.
Regardless. I grew up regularly visiting Rockport in Massachusetts and York Beach in Maine and other places known for their sea food. When I was a kid, I ate fried clams and had trouble chewing the bellies, and I think I ate some frozen fish sticks (well, they were cooked when I ate them, but they had been frozen), and I saw live lobsters in tanks waiting to be purchased (which is briefly mentioned in this narrative of my childhood visits with my Aunt Margie in Rockport), but I didn’t eat lobster at all until a wedding rehearsal dinner in my late twenties. I had a few bites. It did not tickle my fancy.
I’ve tried seafood in various forms–clams and shrimp and crab dip and salmon and calamari and more–but I don’t care for any of it, unless you count the kind of tuna that comes in cans and that I mix with mayonnaise and spread on bread. I like that. And also I swallowed an oyster, I think, at a work reception, and that tasted a bit like the sauce that I put on it, and that moment was super fun—a bit like braving the cold ocean waves because I ate it on a dare. But, in general, seafood is not my jam.
One of my friends, many years ago, told me my dislike of seafood marked me as provincial because seafood is a staple of life across the globe. I’ve been a bit ashamed that I don’t care for seafood ever since.
But I’m getting old. Life is too short to spend energy being ashamed about not enjoying seafood. And life is too short for my friend to be so judge-y about something like the foods I prefer. What a goofy thing to have an opinion about.
I’m Pisces. I know some fish eat other fish, but I must be associated with the kind that eats other stuff, not seafood. I think I’m just rejecting cannibalism in my dislike of seafood.
Maybe Pisces is my gastrological sign. Hahahahahaha
***
It was in the midst of my joy in the ocean, and that joy reflected in the salty faces of the strangers playing in the waves alongside me, that I felt the urge to write. I mean, I didn’t want to write that moment. That would’ve been odd, and the paper would’ve been soggy, or my computer would’ve been messed up by the water, and it was just altogether not at all what I wanted to do. I just felt the urge to write and say out loud (except not out loud unless you happen to be reading this aloud, which would be great, but it’s also great if you’re just reading in your head, though I’d appreciate it if your lips kinda moved as you read along, just so you really get into what you’re reading) how awesome it is to play in the ocean at the beach, and if you haven’t done it or if you haven’t done it recently, consider trying it out. It’s really amazing.
But then, as I counted to 15 and to 15 again after turning the hot shower water to cool and turning my body to revel in the shock and aliveness of cold water against skin, I felt the urge again. Write. Yeah, yeah, not in the shower and so forth, but just, hey, say it. Say the extraordinary happiness that is the twist of a faucet away.
I don’t know why my love of drinking water and my distaste for seafood wanted to be included here, but they did.
Maybe because I’ve been listening to Ross Gay read from his Book of Delights.
Or maybe just because I’m Pisces. I have no idea what my sign means, but maybe a Pisces is someone who likes bringing random thoughts together into a quilt-y kind of pattern, or maybe it’s someone who shares random thoughts without any pattern at all, or maybe Pisces is someone who likes to express something without knowing what that something is or why she wants to express it.
Maybe all the lovely cold water and lack of protein from seafood has just scrambled my brain and y’all get to enjoy it with me, playing alongside me here on this salty page. Are you smiling? I bet you know that I am.
Philly cheesesteak moment
At the end of a conference in Philly this past week, a few of us who had met during the conference decided to head to Reading Terminal Market for a cheesesteak. I believe two of the four of us had never had a cheesesteak. And one of these two, Alex, was about as excited about the experience as a person could be.
As we stood in the long and congested line, the questions began. Alex is from the UK, so you gotta imagine this in a great Brit accent.
What IS a cheesesteak?
Then, upon receiving an answer:
What is a “hoagie”?
It continued like this on topics such as the form of the steak and the typical cheese options and whether the cheese whiz can is similar to a whipped cream can or not. At some point I googled “cheesesteak” because I was worried I would give Alex wrong info (with me not ever having lived in Philly and all).
And during this conversation, we all inched forward, and Alex seemed as delighted as a person can be while waiting in a long crowded line.
Alex ordered just before I did, explaining the situation of it being a new experience to the cashier and getting advice to choose American cheese. Then, each time the cashier gave an option for an add-on, Alex said, “Yes!”
We all eventually got our cheesesteaks and ate them and tried one another’s and so forth, and it was all a lot of fun.
But what stayed with me, what prompted me to write, was the way Alex brought big positive energy to the process of ordering a sandwich, and how much the cashier and all the people within hearing distance were infected by that enthusiasm, all of us smiling more and enjoying Alex’s joy. I’m a big fan of yummy food, but this was something more—the excitement of the new, the different. An embracing of something that could’ve been ordinary or that others might have faced with trepidation. An energy that was simple and lovely and wholesome.
An everyday moment worth recording, worth remembering.
Why I liked Everything Everywhere All at Once
Spoiler alert. If you haven’t seen the movie yet, don’t read this. It won’t make sense to you anyhow.
The last movie that blew me away in this way was Adaptation. With both movies, I didn’t know what to expect, partly because they played with genre and storytelling in ways that were over-the-top with layers of complexity and, simultaneously, as simple and ordinary as can be.
Paying taxes. Work. Family relationships. Family conflicts. Same old. Same old. Same old.
Except life is dramatic and wild and each moment holds infinite possibilities.
The hero of Everything Everywhere All at Once is a woman, a Chinese American woman. She is a wife, a mother, a daughter, a business owner. She is harried, exhausted, worn out and worn down.
And it is time for her to wake up. To own her power. To become the hero. Her husband is her muse. Her daughter is her legacy—she has to love and empower her the way she needed to be loved and empowered herself.
She answers the call. She steps up. And she does so on her own terms and in her own time but never alone. I read some interviews with the Daniels (Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert) who wrote and directed the film. Kwan talked about a Japanese storytelling structure called Kishōtenketsu (起承転結) that moves forward based on “self-realization, understanding, and change” instead of being driven by conflict. And the kung fu scenes are discussed as combat rather than conflict. In the movie itself, the husband says he is a fighter, too. This is the man who puts googly eyes on bags of laundry and brings cookies to the tax auditor.
I relate to that guy, the guy committed to joy. “Joy” is, of course, also the name of the daughter, and part of the mom’s quest is to be in communion with Joy again instead of Joy turning away from her mother in despair.
I also relate to the mom/wife/career woman/daughter, who at times is overwhelmed by the minutiae of everyday life, represented in a table full of receipts and invoices on tiny scraps that she tries to organize while also cooking and being called to attend to customers. This woman has lost the perspective of her third eye, the chakra that provides clarity, concentration, imagination, intuition, and spiritual connection.
What eventually replaces the table full of papers to process is an everything bagel, full of spice, revealed to her by Joy. The everything bagel is overwhelming in its own way, but eventually able to provide the perspective on the table of scraps: not important enough to deal with until after time with family. And the everything bagel also provides perspective on people, even the ones who seem like our enemies: we are all undergoing the same struggle to not only survive but to feel joy, yet often succumbing to regret about the places where we end up and the people we end up with. The movie was a bit like It’s a Wonderful Life in exploring what-might-have-been and treasuring where we are right now and making choices to be kind to one another.
Also, I liked the movie because it made me laugh and also the scene with the paper cuts was absolutely brilliant in how viscerally viewers experience it, surpassing the moments when what’s-his-face walks on broken glass in Die Hard. I’m waiting for someone to do a scene of people repeatedly stubbing their toes. I can feel it now.
Last note in my many-days-after-seeing-the-movie random reflection on why I like it so much. I think there’s something happening with squares/rectangles (those little scraps of papers, the labyrinthine office cubicles in the auditor office building!) versus circles. It’s making me want to see it again to see what else I can catch and appreciate. But just check out this shot of Joy (without any joy) in the laundromat. All those square machines! and all the circular windows into the intimacies of people’s lives.
The day after commencement
I came across this bit of writing today when I was cleaning out some Notes. Notes are some kind of app that comes with my Mac and my iPhone and my iPad (back before my son somehow acquired my iPad for his own use). I don’t know why I wrote this particular thing in my Notes, but it was interesting for me to read a year later. So I thought I’d share it here.
Enjoy.
Day after commencement
I’ve taken the dog to the parkSwept out the garage andVacuumed cobwebs from the underside of the wheelbarrowI weeded one bed, newly defined and mulched at last summer’s endI took Callie out to breakfast. We chatted about writing and poems and we laughed when walking back to the car because she said, “I have to write a sonnet. I don’t know what to write about. I really don’t want to write this sonnet” and only minutes before we had noted that she is always Tom Sawyer at first, never wanting to whitewash that fence, but she always turns into Tom’s friends, finding joy in the chore that is now pleasure well executed.I assisted Jace as he made brownies with chocolate chip cookies on top.And nowI’m in the sun on the back deck in a blue bikiniReading and dozingAnd summoned to look at the wonder of the backyardThe chattering invisible birds punctuated by a regular 2-note reminder of a voice and a pattern and the lives beyond my own.I’m restless: Can I look and not notice the weeds? Can I relax and wonder and be in the moment without the evaluation and coming up short? Can I love this weedy yard and my big thighs and the conversations I had yesterday that I don’t understand because so many so often seem ready to take offense?I notice my impulse to fix and improve. I tell myself Iove the whole thing, weeds and all. I tell myself that “weed” is an unfair word; it sets up the undesirability of the plant from the get-go.My thoughts spin lazily round and round, the sun brightening the inside of my eyelids, me wanting to make things better, me wanting to accept things as they are, me, knowing I won’t ever be a bird without a care but at least I know to take time to read in the sun on the back deck when one more academic year is done.
- I had forgotten about making brownies with chocolate chip cookies on top. How yummy!
- I still wear that blue bikini (and a couple other bikinis as well, but not all at the same time) and I still read and doze on the deck. Ahh.
- I have no idea what I was referencing when I described “a regular 2-note reminder of a voice and a pattern and the lives beyond my own.” Was that my phone? the peepers in the creek behind my house? something else? I really don’t know….
- I vividly remember a reception I attended after commencement last year (“the conversations I had yesterday that I don’t understand because so many so often seem ready to take offense”). Two people—both were administrators in love with the university president—reacted with great umbrage to innocent questions I asked, which is an unusual experience for me. But lots of stuff went down in the following year, and it turns out I’m occasionally a force to be reckoned with, so maybe those two people somehow already knew as much. It’s funny that I exaggerated with the phrases “so many” and “so often.” Um, two, Laurie. Just two people. Just two times. Lol. So dramatic.
- I can’t believe how much I got done that day! I’m like some kind of freaking super woman. Part of me wants to edit some of that out of the writing, both because it sound a bit show off-y and because Guilt. Past Me is making Present Me all ashamed of my lack of productivity. Which is totally not the point of the writing. But I’m too lazy to edit. (did you see what I did there?? embracing my lack of productivity, baby!)
- I still struggle with the tension between improving and just loving things (including myself) as is. I feel like the kinds of wisdom I constantly hear are about acceptance, but that’s not always so practical, and even total acceptance seems like something I’m supposed to strive for, which is annoying. Don’t make me strive and tell me not to strive at the same time! Ugh.
- I just reread, and I think the part about Callie and Tom Sawyer makes me feel better about productivity and acceptance and laziness. All kinds of moments can be filled with joy. Sometimes I get too caught up in what I’m “supposed” to do or “need” to do, and the pleasure disappears until I remember that often these exact things are what I want to do. I think I enjoyed all kinds of activities in the day after commencement last year, and writing it out was not a way to inspire guilt in Future Me but instead was meant to remind Future Me of an ordinary day that was full of pleasure. Again: Ahh.
contemplating creation
If you were challenged to capture examples of creation once a day for a week, what would creation look like to you?
That was the prompt that called to me in this month’s Soul Matters challenge. And here are the images I captured. I offer explanations of each creation individually, and then I try to pull it all together at the end. So if you’re not much of a reader, skim the images and read the end reflection.
Day 1
This hot pink squishy ball rests in a crystal bowl on my dining room table. I love the texture, the color, the silliness of this object. It keeps me from taking myself too seriously. It feels inviting, like it’s asking to be picked up and played with.
I like to imagine someone coming up with this design. I wonder if the designers were inspired by sea urchins or octopi or jellyfish? Did they picture the product in toy stores, in backyards, in the chubby hands of children? Could the designers visualize their creation in a crystal bowl on my dining room table?
Day 2
I bought this holder for eyeglasses in Galway from a street vendor in 2012. I love the beauty of the carved wood, the fun of having a head come to life once the glasses are put in place, and the usefulness.
I should point out that eye glasses are a pretty awesome creation as well. The ones in this photo are my son’s athletic glasses—they help him see, have a strap to stay in place, and are unlikely to break.
Both this photo and the photo above show that certain creations are likely to be part of my life only because of extreme privilege. Having a dining room centerpiece is normal in my world, and having a holder for eye glasses does not usually feel like the luxury it is. For most people in the world, these kinds of creations must seem frivolous.
It has felt ironic to me for a long time that much of the beauty of creativity is possible because of economic privilege and leisure time. It’s what I think about whenever I read “Paul’s Case” by Willa Cather. And “Barn Burning” by William Faulkner. And “Beyond the Peacocks” by Alice Walker.
How often are the beautiful things of this world built upon the backs of laborers? laborers who are denied the privilege and the leisure time to enjoy the products of their labor?
Day 3
I started packing up some things in my house, and I was tickled when these books fit inside a cereal box perfectly. Well, not actually a cereal box, but a box that originally held boxes of cereal. My husband joked about the people planning the box design and their genius ability to make it fit not only cereal boxes but also a certain standard-sized book.
What’s the creation I’m celebrating here? The box? The books? Or maybe just the way they fit together so nicely. Maybe it’s not actually a creation. Whatever. It’s what I chose for Day 3. It was satisfying.
Day 4
I saved some of the paper bags from my recent visit to Ireland because I found out that plastic bags are not used in Ireland in any shops. In the whole country. Huh.
I think it’s awesome that instead of seeing the environmental concern as a limitation, many shops use the paper bag as an opportunity to create an identity. These bags aren’t just throw-aways. They’re cool pieces of design. I love them! And I really do appreciate the way the shop owners were likely faced with a challenge and used that moment as an opportunity. I am sometimes good at doing that. And sometimes it’s a challenge for me. (Do you see what I did there?)
Looking at these bags makes me happy. I feel like a kid who likes the box more than the gift that was in the box.
Day 5
When I was at church, I was inspired to take a photo of the quilt that Shirley Thomas created that hangs behind the alter. Shirley died recently, and she was a member of my Soul Matters group. I look at that quilt every time I go to church. There is so much to see. It’s way better in real life than on the computer screen.
Sometimes I think about learning to quilt because the patterns appeal to me so much.
After I photographed the quilt, I felt compelled to take a photo of the chalice tapestry that hangs on the front of the lectern. Here, I like the way a variety of universal religious symbols come together to represent Unitarian Universalism. It’s a combination of the prepackaged and the unique…a kind of remixing of materials to create new meaning.
One other thing about church and creation while I’m here. The music. I don’t feel like I have musical talent, but I’m good at enjoying music. Some of the music at church is familiar from other times and places—John Denver, Madonna, Les Mis, and so forth. When this music is played in church, it’s a bit of a re-mix, with familiar materials having new meaning. Today, it was “Edelweiss.” It moved me to tears because I’m going to be moving soon, and I kept thinking of the Captain singing that song with his local friends at the festival near the end of The Sound of Music, knowing that he was about to leave Austria forever. Heartbreaking.
Day 6
My daughter Callie made this model of DNA. I think it’s a cool creation in itself, and I also like the way DNA itself is a building block of creation. It’s kinda like the familiar materials that get new life when they come together in new ways. Or maybe my analogy is faulty because it’s been a long time since I learned about DNA, so most of my impressions of DNA are now from episodes of Law & Order and the like.
At any rate, I thought this model was a lot of fun, and it made learning about DNA seem more attractive and enjoyable—a pleasure of exploration instead of a chore of rote memorization. I also appreciated that the science teacher asked the students to create their DNA models from material found around the house instead of going out and buying supplies. More re-mixing of materials to create something new.
Day 7
This is an image of me from a SnapChat filter. I love the way various apps and programs allow lots of creative experimentation. I’m a creation, and this version of me is a whole different creation. The latter is a kind of collaboration between whoever created me (if “whoever” is the right term) and whoever created SnapChat and whoever created this particular filter for SnapChat and me (because I’m the one who used the app).
Fun stuff. And cool to think about all the layers of creation.
Also, a former student recently wrote this piece in defense of SnapChat’s puppy dog filter, so I guess these filters were in my head.
***
End Reflection
When I look at the whole series of images together that all spoke “creation” to me in some way, there are several commonalities I notice.
- Most of the creations involve color, brightness, something eye-catching.
- Most of the creations are part of everyday life. It would be easy to overlook each item or to avoid thinking of it as something that a person (or people) created.
- Most of the items of creation are frivolous, made for reasons that are so far from basic needs that their very existence indicates easy times—at least for some of us.
- Most of the creations are purposeful. That is, someone created a plan and executed the plan. The books that fit perfectly into a box may be the exception. That just happened, and it made me happy.
- A lot of the creation work involves remixing known elements (rather than starting completely from scratch). That’s awesome to think about!
- Many of the creations inspire me or teach me.
- Many of the creations made me think of the creators, and it felt right to feel grateful and appreciative towards these people. I also felt connected to the designers or creators of each piece, which is cool.
- All of these creations make me happy.
- The only part that’s difficult is the part about creation often occurring at the expense of a laboring class who don’t get to enjoy the fruits of their work. It makes me think of my waitressing days—welcoming guests, serving the food, facilitating the ease that allowed dinner guests to connect with one another and enjoy themselves…but not partaking of the good times myself, at least not while playing that role.
I think creation can and does happen without it being at the expense of a laboring class, but I believe it is more rare and difficult than I would often like to acknowledge.
Laurie Mac Reads 