Immerse in That One Moment
Episode 8: Left in love with everything.
April 19, 2022
Our neighbor, E, planted bluebells in her front yard a number of years ago and I’ve been yearning for the day they’d cross the property line into our yard. I didn’t have to wait too long—bluebells, when they’re happy, spread quickly, and these seem downright joyous. I noticed, also, that the lilies of the valley are on the move again. This will be a summer of dividing after flowering, because it’s time to get rid of the grass in the front yard.
(I say this every year, but this year I MEAN IT)
I am, somewhat regrettably, a heavy Twitter user. I’ve had a Twitter account since 2007 (!?) and so very fondly remember marveling at it early on, this platform where I could send out a micromissive and maybe get a micromissive back.
[Hmmm.]
15 years later, Twitter is not that. Well, it kind of is, but rather than being a place I get excited about visiting, it has now become something to reluctantly-yet-habitually check, like to see if the sump pump is still going off in a heavy rain, or if We’re Going To Have Water Down There. I spend a lot of time on the main account, but not much time with BYI Twitter, which would probably make all the difference. I find myself energized, engaged, and downright happy when I hang out over there. I’m legit not sure why I’m not there exclusively. If I had to guess, it’s because my good friend Hypervigilance is stubbornly, understandably holding hands with COVID and George Floyd and January 6 and climate change and yet another, even more destabilizing war overseas, and needs to, you know, “check Twitter”. I get it.
However, learning that Rebecca Solnit very recently started tweeting... well, this thrilled me, and BYI dutifully followed her over the weekend. This will guarantee more frequent logins at (In? To?) a place I truly enjoy being… or, uh, “being”. Hypervigilance could use a break.
I regularly ponder the tension between what’s now referred to as narrowcasting—for me, writing this newsletter, the existence of a “close friends” feed on Instagram, a few group chats, etc.—with actual narrowcasting, e.g., my postcard practice, asparagus comparisons over an invisible backyard fence, talks on the [*gasp*] phone. These are all important, and compared with how I communicated back in, say, the 1980s, the former group still feels pretty broad, while the latter feels closer to the vest; I like both spaces.
But wait—there’s more! As a communicator by disposition, the above definitions of narrowcasting totally count as broadcasting for me—they feel HUGE sometimes! But as a communicator by trade, the pressure is always there to Broadcast. I’m a storyteller, and I’m a Storyteller. There’s tension there, too. It keeps things interesting.
I typed this last night as an aside to the draft of this post, probably after checking Twitter:
The COVID teeter-totter grates anew. I realize, and very much understand, that This Is How We Live Now, but the whiplash is a bit traumatizing. I like information and opportunity and it seems like there isn’t any interest in solving this problem. Oh, I’m sure, OF COURSE, that there are things going on behind the scenes that I know nothing about and I need to let the grownups do their thing, but what I often see is the grownups telling lies in the service of the economy and capitalism, and it pisses me off.
I’m angry as I type. I often am nowadays. I smash my computer’s keys in a way that I never used to until a few years ago. Why abuse the keyboard when a lighter touch accomplishes the same thing, extends the life of the machine, etc? I’d lift heavy things or punch something, but… tennis elbow.
File Under: I Need to Do This Soon but There is Never a Good Time
Transplanting seedlings into larger containers—say, yogurt cups, or the bottom half of an Oi Ocha bottle—creates better conditions for growth, is kind to the young plant, and bodes well for the future, especially if spring is slow in arriving and they can’t just go into the ground. It’s a pain in the butt, but has to happen… or the original investment is for nothing.
How blown my tiny young teenage mind was in early 1983, when, as I was going through my dad’s back issues of Musician magazine, I found this interview with Brian Eno. This interview felt so important somehow (and the entire things was a big influence on young me), but most important of all was the mention of Oblique Strategies cards. All 14 year-old me, living in far-suburban Minneapolis, wanted after reading this interview was a deck of these cards.
I finally got a deck 35 years later for Christmas from my brother-in-law, P, who drew me in the family gift drawing. [He also got me a copy of Lean Logic, which I find myself drawn to much more frequently these days.] I use them often to help set the tone for the day, as reminders and provocations… but sometimes they’re just cool to read while I think back to the curious, earnest young person I was back in the 80s in the rural ‘burbs and how desperately I wanted to be in creative environments; how I just wanted to be around and participate in music and writing and photography and art and talking—broadcasting—and how I eventually did get to do that, for a time. I lived in the Minneapolis-St.Paul area from 1981-1991, which was an absolutely magical, magical time for music and art and writing and the sheer joy of communicating passionately, tactilely. More on those days another day.
Two newsletters:
Jay’s
Anne Helen's
Current themes:
Navigation, patience, breaking up with shitty narratives, auditing and inventorying
“Can We Fix This?” (EEK, I think you’ll dig it)
No LOTSA this week, unless it’s Lisa Ought To Sleep, Amirite? In which case, zzzzz. Until next week…
Now, I must own Oblique Stratagies. Could I give them to my daughter as a cover… hmmm.