6 Things I'm Trying to Say More
cloud watching as research. sun napping as research. holding hands as research.
“Hey! I’m going to [x activity], want to join me?”
Compared to kidhood, it takes a lot more effort to make and maintain close friends as an adult. More responsibilities means less time for friend-making. Limited access to social spaces like school or clubs hinders opportunities to meet potential new homies. On top of that, there’s a serious lack of free public spaces for people to gather and converse. The list goes on. Structurally and interpersonally, Western America often places friendship on the lesser tier of relationship importance. All of this combines to make the process of making friends as an adult both deeply effortful and squirmily vulnerable.
I’ve been feeling the vulnerability heavy lately as I’ve been making connecting with new people a priority in my life. If I’m honest, I have a deep-seated fear of coming across as too thirsty to potential new friends. My butt clenches in stress at the thought that someone will look through my invitation to hang and see me as my worst nightmare: clingy! overbearing! wet noodle energy! Ok, so this is clearly the wound of my fear of rejection talking (it’s sooo good at crafting self-destructive conspiracy theories). What I’m saying is, making new friends reveals sticky vulnerable feelings. And I’m practicing sitting with that stickiness. More and more I’ve been feeling like everything good requires vulnerability. Everything good requires some level of willingness to show up and be seen (without guarantee of the outcome).
So I’m trying to say “wanna hang?” more often, but with specificity. With an offering of an activity: going to a poetry reading, painting in the park, going on a little walk, anything beyond the vagueness of “we should hang sometime.” I offer without projecting an expectation onto the invite. I offer with slowness and ease. There are friends out there that I haven’t met yet. But I’ll never meet them if I’m unwilling to withstand the vulnerability of connection.
“Fuck it.”
I’m so good at over-analysis. I’m so good at concepting dozens of fake chaotic scenarios and mentally preparing for them. I’m so good, I spend a lot more time muddling over what-ifs rooted in scarcity than pulling the realities I dream of into reality. I’m doing my best to lower the stakes. To be bad at something. To goof it up. “Fuck it,” muttered before I go to the house party solo, or before sending a flirty text to a crush, or when I head out in a ~beyond my comfort zone but excited about it~ outfit, has revealed itself to be the grumpy mantra I need. It’s a salty, quick reminder that risk-adversity may make me feel safe, but it ultimately won’t lead me to a life that makes me feel free.
“I changed my mind.”
Or: I changed my mind, I’m not drinking tonight / Last week I said you could borrow my car, but thought about it and I’m not comfortable with it / I know I said yes to going out before, but the situation’s changed / I had some time to think and I actually can’t take on that job / ect ect ect.
I’m not necessarily trying to say this more, but I am trying to remember I have permission to say it. Circumstances and feelings change. New information reveals itself. Sometimes my people-pleasing tendencies cloud my access to my intuition and my first reaction isn’t the truth. I’m allowed to change my mind (and it’s my responsibility to communicate that change in a way that makes room for understanding and grace).“Can you help me with X?”
Maybe it’s the fact that I was raised as the eldest daughter, or American culture’s obsession with self-sufficiency, or the fear of being a burden to others that’s seeded by white supremacy, patriarchy, ableism, and capitalism. Most probably, it’s all the above. I have a hard time asking people for help, and I’m practicing what it looks like to name my needs without triggering a fight-or-flight response in my body. In his book “Inciting Joy,” author Ross Gay notes, "...you will never be self-sufficient or independent. Because nothing living is."Every time I ask for help a recognition and practice of mutual dependence strengthens, and the myth of individual autonomy is made clear.“I’ve been working on this thing, can I show you where it’s at?”
Lately I’ve been getting more comfortable with showing friends projects that are deep in the drafts. A few years ago, this would never happen. I’d wait till my work was near or already complete, till it was nearing whatever image of “perfect” I’d attached myself to. Showing friends or creative community my work in its early stages has proved helpful to sustaining my energy to complete the work, or provided helpful eyes when I feel I’m overthinking a concept. Anti-perfectionism as artistic accountability.“Look at [x stunning thing]!”
As in: Look at the moon! Look at that flower, isn't that the most stunning shade of blue you’ve ever seen? Look at this line of this book, it made me cry. Look at this focaccia I made, isn't it stunning.
I think it’s in our best interest to point out the small things that delight us. The more seemingly meaningless, the better, as this typically signals a greater presence of magic. Simone Weil once said “Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.” Every time I learn of the small, everyday things that catch my loved one’s attention, the beauty of the World widens, even if only an inch. I don’t look at flowers the same way since my friend Misaël described the details of her favorite one. I like to think that those who know me well now have a deeper appreciation of sea creatures. May we be generous with sharing that which widens our capacity for wonder.
Song of the week
Unlock Your Summer Joy: Join my online workshop this Saturday, July 1! 🎈
Back by popular demand! This Saturday July 1st, 1-3pm est, I’ll be hosting Create Your Summer Fieldguide, an online workshop that explores how to make play and wonder an intentional practice this Summer. Think of your fieldguide as a compass to what lights you up. The goal of the fieldguide is provide a map of how your can gently explore your curiosity this season.
🌈 This workshop may be for you if:
You’d like to infuse your summer with play or learning new things
You’ve had trouble with feeling inspired lately and want to get your curiosity gears turning
You’re tired of the pressure of what summer is supposed to be and want to craft your own definition
You’d like to deepen your attunement to your desires and curiosities
Check the workshop link for further details. I’m so excited to share space with you. 🎈
I loved this, your newsletters always feel like i'm letting out a deep breath. thank you for saying the things we hope for, out loud :)
"I think it’s in our best interest to point out the small things that delight us. The more seemingly meaningless, the better, as this typically signals a greater presence of magic." Perfectly said 🥹 My best friend reminded me of this recently, but you captured it so beautifully: "May we be generous with sharing that which widens our capacity for wonder." 🌸