Dear fellow wonderer,
Here we are smack in the middle of holiday season and who needs another newsletter anyway? Maybe you if you’re like me, finding yourself getting a little lost in the chaos, the organizing, the giving of self that this time of year often demands. Maybe you’re in the thick of life with little kids, or maybe older kids, or maybe demanding people who are not kids at all.
This weekend, for the first time since last Christmas, we’ll have all three kids home. These are my favorite days of the year, my babies in their childhood beds and in the morning, making coffee and chatting with me in the kitchen.
Cherished days; days when I lose myself a little. When I can find myself constantly momming. (Watch me natter on about my own constant momming on Tiktok or Instagram or Substack.)
As a reminder to myself, and maybe to you too, I offer some means of holding on to self in the busiest of days:
- Claim a tiny bit of your morning. I’m not meaning something fancy like an hour by candlelight–though if you can pull that off, have at it! I’m just talking ten, fifteen, twenty minutes in a quiet spot on your own. No phone, no incessant inputs. Maybe you read, or pray, or meditate, or write in your journal, or just stare out the window at that pair of towhees, stomping their tiny feet to kick up seeds from the soil.
- Speaking of journals, have you started your Lynda Barry 7-minute (4-minute?) diary yet? If not, when you’re out on errands, maybe grab yourself a composition book and dig in! I vow to keep my own going every remaining December day, even if it’s the only form of self-reflection I manage.
- Movement, even if minimal. Forget my typical garage workouts with weights; for now it’s something quick, maybe a 20-minute metabolic conditioning workout–like this old-school video. Music that riles me up is essential. I love an ’80s playlist because research tells us songs from our teenage years release extra dopamine and oxytocin and who can’t use more of that right now? Sometimes I just put on that playlist and, for a couple songs, dance.
- Speaking of dancing, when I need a hit of righteous selfhood, I will dance like a lunatic to Hole’s “Violet.” If no one’s home I really go for it, screeching along with Courtney on the line, “You should learn how to say no!” which seems like a glorious motto for workers in the Department Of Invisible Labor. This was the song of choice I’d click into my Volvo’s CD player and belt out as a young mom, when I got the rare delight of–gasp!–driving to the grocery store by myself.
- Or maybe just go for a walk. But maybe without a podcast. Maybe even without music. You know I’ve been writing about how too much input keeps us from hearing our intuition–and it sure seems like the dark days of solstice could be a really good time to turn inside and listen to ourselves, even for a little while.
- Read a little bit of a book. Perfect for nutty-busy days: Ross Gay’s The Book of Delights or The Book of (More) Delights. I’ll bet you might even own a copy! Just read a single “essayette” and you’ll not only experience the satisfaction of having read, but Ross will rewire your brain so you look at the world with a new drive to see, everywhere, delights.
- How about a creative moment? I’m reminding myself to, in the next few days, pick up that shawl I’ve been working on for over a year and knit part of a row. Just part of a row and there comes that dopamine again and also that luscious cashmerino, running through my fingers, reminding me that I am creative and grounded and human. Maybe for you it’s arranging some herbs in a bud vase, or snapping a winter still life on your phone, or drawing a little sketch of your cat in the bottom corner of your Lynda Barry diary.
- And it must be said: what could you leave in the bathroom so it’s there when you steal away for ten minutes at a time? I don’t think Ross Gay would mind being left on your toilet tank, or maybe that knitting project might wait beside the sink for you to get in a few dozen stitches. Or maybe just leave out some good-smelling herby cream that you rub into your hands and then bring to your nose while you inhale and say something nice to yourself.
- If you’re a fellow writer, I’m thinking of a class I took with Eula Biss. When revising, she’d give herself small goals, like: distill this paragraph. Little tasks she could pull off in 20-minute spurts when her son was small. Those little spurts led to one of my favorite books, Having And Being Had, written in short chapters that you, now, can drink down in far less than twenty minutes. (It’s about capitalism. Maybe the perfect January read.)
- Or maybe none of these ideas speak to you–but what might? Talking about this with my wise friend Meliss as we gussied up cookies with buttercream, she said the challenge is to think about what makes you feel alive and then find a way to break that down into small parts you can do in snatches of time. We talked about a point in her life when she didn’t have time to paint–too much set-up, too much clean-up–so she started sewing instead. Something she could pick up here and there, add a few stitches when she found a spare moment.
So how about you? What are the small ways over the next few weeks that you might step away and remind yourself that you are more than just a caregiver and a happiness-maker and a chaos-calmer? What could you do in ten minutes, more or less, to remind yourself that you are you?
And if you have half a sec, share a quick idea in the comments so we all have the tools we need right now.
Wishing you light in these darkest of days. Wishing you moments of you. See you after the calendar flips!
xo,
patricia
cross-posted at Substack