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I’ve been super distracted this week.
I try to focus on anything, but I find myself constantly dragged back — picking at this one particular mind-scab.
A friend of mine just got a difficult medical diagnosis. He’s young, in his 30s, and while he’s kind of mostly ok for now, he’s got maybe 10 - 15 years before life changes dramatically, and permanently, for him.
How can 15 years seem like both an eternity and no time at all?
He seems to be taking it better than I am.
He’s facing down this huge devastating thing and I can’t stop thinking about it. But, actually, we are all facing down this huge devastating thing. Most of us just are not exactly sure what it is that’s coming for us.
At least his devastating thing has a name.
Of course, after I’ve worn myself out worrying about him, I turn it around and make it all about me.
Do I have 15 good years left? Who knows. Maybe I have 45 years left. Maybe I have 45 minutes left and this newsletter is going to be my final contribution to the world. (Well, damnit, now I feel pressure to make this super profound.)
In some ways, it’s a gift to understand your own mortality time frame. It adds a certain preciousness to life that we tend to forget about in our day-to-day monotony. When considering that theoretical question about if you would want to know when you are going to die — my answer is yes absolutely please tell me. I’m a planner.
It brings up that epic question of how we are spending our time. We all have an expiration date. What are we doing with that ticking clock?
My friend is looking at dramatically slashing his spending so he can retire, joining the FIRE Movement: Financial Independence, Retire Early. And I get it. He wants to be on his motorcycle, not at work.
The following quote might be categorized as “Yeah, No Shit Sherlock” but I actually find it quite provocative —
“How we spend our days is of course how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing.”
Annie Dillard, The Writing Life
This is all well and good when we get that promotion or have our arms wrapped around someone amazing. But what about when we are unloading the dishwasher or cleaning up dog puke or stuck in the grips of panicking endlessly about things beyond our control? That is how we are spending our lives? On the banal and infuriating?
The reality is that our lives are varied. Joy and fun are inextricably linked with obligations and disappointments. It’s a roller coaster. Lovers and tax bills. Tacos and back injuries. Vacations and biopsies. It’s all part of the human experience and we need it all to find balance. We just hope that we can create some meaning from most of it before the clock runs out.
Whatever is your joy equivalent of riding your motorcycle, I hope you find a little time for that today.
And hug your people. For an awkwardly long time.
Here’s what else happened this week:
What I’m reading
Why We Never Have Enough Time - The New Yorker
In her new book, Jenny Odell argues that structural forces have commodified our moments, days, and years. Can our lost time be reclaimed?
What I’m also reading
There is a lot of eye-rolling in the military community on the topic of SEALS writing books. (It does seem that a lot of them write books.) But some of those books are really good, like this one. It is definitely written to be civilian-friendly, but since I am a civilian, I am learning a lot and it’s an important - if devastating - story.
What I’m watching
Fleishman is in Trouble (Hulu)
Fleishman Is in Trouble deals with the themes of gender roles, marriage and divorce, online dating, midlife crises, and class anxiety.
Despite some of those topics being cringy, I loved it. Great writing, great acting, and great cinematography, which I don’t expect in a series and so I’m extra delighted.
What I learned about
In 2010, an orange-eyed owlet was born in captivity in North Carolina, and was soon after moved to the Central Park Zoo, where he lived for 13 years until one month ago, when an unknown suspect vandalized the wire mesh surrounding his small habitat, inadvertently (or possibly in the spirit of vigilantism) cutting him loose. Flaco flew uncertainly to freedom.
Flaco seems to be living his best life, hanging around NYC. Many worried he would not be able to function in the wild, but he seems to be doing well. He has been spotted learning how to hunt on a construction site, being nonplussed by crows, and chilling on 5th Avenue. Maybe Baby wrote about her Flaco sightings and got me thinking about the ways we long for both wildness and captivity.
What brought me joy
Alien ravioli.
P.S. Here’s a Blue Mala Update
April classes are now scheduled for Blue Mala Members. For all you pay-what-you-can monthly members, we’ve got live yoga, meditation, and office hours where we just hang out and talk about our lives.
I also posted a new free yoga class - Yoga to Wake Up - because this time change is garbage. (It’s just 18 minutes. I know you can find 18 minutes.)
Thank you for being here, Friends. Writing to you feels like riding a motorcycle.
Much love,
~Lisa