Dear reader,
On Monday, I traveled to watch the total solar eclipse with my partner. Yes, it was incredible, awe-inspiring, and I began to cry as soon as I removed my solar lenses to witness the moon slip over the sun and blot it out completely.
But what I’m here to talk about is our 100-mile journey home, the one in which we found ourselves in bumper to bumper traffic. Of course, in the midst of a 30-minute slow down, Google Maps told me there was another way. We’d cover the same amount of miles, but instead of stop-and-go traffic, we’d hum along a series of back roads, twisting and turning our way through farmland.
Of course, this was an unknown route. Certainly rural, with a smattering of railroads to cross and tiny towns that would force us to slow down to 30 miles per hour as we putter through their little main streets. And yet—purportedly no traffic. No sitting on the highway, watching our ETA tick later and later and later.
So we took the exit, just before our next predicted slog of another 45-minute delay, coursing off into the (great?) unknown.
And yes—there were railroads and tiny towns that slowed us down. But there were also wide skies. Golden fields. Charming signs announcing each village. Sesser: A Certified City. Marissa: A Gathering Place. Pinckneyville: The Friendly Little Town, also home to the sign “Warning: do NOT pick up hitchhikers,” placed just before the local correctional facility.
And nearly no traffic whatsoever, beside the brief stint when we intersected another long line of cars slowly marching towards the clogged interstate we had leapt from.
All this to say: why do I so often fear the scenic route?
Yes—the scenic route is often the unknown route. You might say, the road less traveled (by me, by us all).
And yet—the scenic route is one of delight. Instead of three hours spent choking on car exhaust and my own traffic-induced frustration, I spent it transfixed by the light filtering through the small budding crops along those back roads. Counting the flashing PLAY LOTTO HERE signs that seem to light up all the little towns of rural Illinois. Eating pretzels and salted caramels with the windows down, the air free from the heat and noise of all the cars that were still pushing and shoving their way down the interstate just miles away.
All this to say: may we get over our small (but often mighty) fears about taking our time. May we align ourselves less and less with the desire to get everywhere faster, and instead prioritize our delight along the way.
We’re always going to be in pursuit of something. May we enjoy the route we take to get there. May we refuse to pedestalize achievement and instead prioritize the process itself.
In the great unfolding of my life, I have learned this again and again: it is always about the process. So I may as well surrender to its joys, its woes, and simply try to be present for it as best I can.
Here’s to the scenic route, which helps remind me to do just that.
“Wonder of the World” by Billy Collins
Poem
Every time I start a new notebook for my morning pages, I choose a poem to inscribe on the first page that I can look back to as I fill out the notebook over the course of a few months. In my current notebook I wrote out the entirety of this poem by Billy Collins. His language is deceptively plain and simple, his tone often taking on good-hearted jest directed towards himself. This poem makes my heart swell with a sense of possibility towards my own future, and reminds me that I can bear witness to my unfolding. I’ll titillate you with the last stanza, which is my favorite:
“It is enough to make you reach for the locket
in which you carry your picture of the world
as you glide closer and closer to it
over the cold streaming surface of these waters.”
“One Breath Around the World” by Guillaume Néry
Video
Watch as professional freediver Guillaume Néry explores the depths of the oceans around the world. An absolutely surreal look at the underwater landscapes and creatures we cohabitate with on our watery planet. I watch this video several times a year, and it always instills a sense of awe in me. Néry’s command under water is captivating, as he pirouettes between massive whales and swims alongside scores of darting sharks.
Body Work by Melissa Febos
Book
This book has been a balm to my soul as I start this newsletter. Centered on exploring the radical power of personal narrative, Melissa Febos blends memoir with advice and guidance for other writers on committing their life stories to the page. I’m only halfway through and have already jotted down many quotes from the book, but this one from the author’s note stands out in particular:
“... While I sometimes resist the work of writing, I resist my own psychic suffering more, and writing has become for me a primary means of digesting and integrating my experiences and thereby reducing the pains of living, or if not, at least making them useful to myself and to others. There is no pain in my life that has not been given value by the alchemy of creative attention.”
MAKE A TINY PIECE OF ART
Trust me, the tinier the better.
I brought a stack of index cards with me to view the eclipse, as well as a handy travel watercolor kit gifted to me by a friend. You can see the goofy little scenes I painted above. It was pure bliss to sit out in the blazing spring sun, surrounded by fellow eclipse-viewers, and paint sun-themed images in anticipation of the day’s big event.
Try it out: grab a teensy weensy piece of paper like an index card, a post-it note, the back of a receipt, or a little wedge pulled from a notebook. Use pens, markers, crayons, watercolors, pastels, anything you want to create your little masterpiece—you could even collage or use acrylics on a tiny piece of canvas.
FIGURE OUT YOUR ELEMENT X QUADRANT
By from
In a recent episode of Off The Grid—an illuminating podcast about business ownership without social media—host Amelia Hruby interviewed Ayana Zaire Cotton, an anti-disciplinary artist and the creator of Seeda School. While the whole episode is inspiring, at around 32 minutes and 30 seconds Ayana explains a deeply informative practice she teaches called the Element X Quadrant.
She explains it as such:
“There’s the zone of domination, the things that we absolutely should stay away from. For me I always joke this is the stove and state. Like anything to do with cooking, legal stuff, taxes, I am just going to pay the professionals, I’m going to ask for help.
And then there’s the zone of competence… we can do these things, we’re good at these things, they get done, but it’s hard to find our creative voice because it’s someone else's creative spirit that really flourishes here. For me this is graphic design, it’s something I can do… but I know there are other magicians whose hearts really sing during this work.
And then there's our zone of validation… this is the place where we are getting paid well for this work, we are getting praised for this work… this work just feels too externally validating to give up.
…Then we get to the zone of desire, and I invite people to say: what is the thing you secretly dream of orienting your entire life around? What are the creative practices you have told yourself possibly for years: that’s actually going to stay the sideshow, that’s actually going to stay the hobby. What are the things we’re not even giving ourselves permission to imagine what it looks like to create life’s work deeply oriented in that zone?
…Once I gave myself permission to actually start imagining from inside the zone of my desire, I started coming up with all sorts of experiments I could try. I started coming up with all sorts of different possibilities I could test drive. And sometimes, it’s just that little switch, that little bit of permission, that can make all the difference.”
Give it a go: spend a little time considering what falls into your four zones, how they play together, how they formulate the foundation of your creative and professional lives. And for a deeper look, definitely sign up for Ayana’s Worldbuilding Workshop Series!
A HELPFUL VISUALIZATION TO REST, REPLENISH, RECEIVE
I’m no stranger to the power of meditation, but that doesn’t mean I always find it easy to sit for long stretches of time, quieting my mind over and over again. So sometimes, I reach for a helpful visualization instead.
A few weeks ago I was walking through a local park and spotted three little turtles lined up in a neat row, sunning on a branch hanging over the pond. I watched them for a few moments, struck by their peace and stillness amidst the friendly park noises of children playing and dogs barking.
Since then, I’ve called on this visualization during meditative moments when I’m yearning for a little rest and replenishment.
Try it: Close your eyes and imagine yourself as a little turtle in the sun, soaking up warm rays, receiving the lovely gift of that distant star without wondering whether or not you “deserve” it (hint: you never need to earn your rest, my sweet pal).
So long for now!
—Katie
Thank you so much for the shout out Katie! 🤎