I haven’t seen Notting Hill in probably 20 years but I think about this montage scene ALL the time. In it, Hugh Grant walks through the seasons. It’s a wild way to mark a passage of time, a whole year, a journey and I love it.
On a walk this week, I pictured myself as Hugh. I’m at the beginning, I thought. It’s boiling hot out, I’m sweating, my scalp is sunburning and before I know it, it’ll be freezing, I’ll be wearing my ear muffs and a sweater and I’ll be in the best shape of my life because I AM ON A FITNESS JOURNEY. *Ain’t No Sunshine on repeat in my head*
Oh a journey, a journey, a journey. A beginning and an end. Thirty pounds lost, a degree earned, a year of writing completed. Reflection, satisfaction, deep breath, we made it. But what about the middle? The juicy, incredible, squishy, awful, amazing, earth-shattering, painful, blissful, mind-blowing middle. The Life of it all.
I’ve been thinking about this all week, my infatuation with beginning. Initial inspiration addiction. Dreaming and fantasizing, watching hours of Instagram reels, this is where I started and look at me now, content. I can’t get enough of it. When I decided almost a year ago that I would post here every week I was mortified of not following through. Fifty-one weeks in, I can’t imagine NOT posting. Motivation has embedded in my psyche, disguised itself as habit. Writing is natural now, the luster and wonder of where these words sprout from feels familiar.
About a month ago, I started watering my Pothos, whose name is Franklin, with more regularity. His soil isn’t the best but I fear repotting him might send him into a shock from which he will never recover1. Curled in, anemic leaves have unfurled into happy sun catchers. Stretching vines starting to cascade down the side of the table where he sits. He is SO happy these days. I’m not sure why it’s taken me this long to realize how one small change could be literally life changing. One extra minute of care and Franklin is THRIVING. It occurred to me that maybe the rest of our plant babies, Melissa, Kiki and Miley, might enjoy some more sunlight and water too. They’ve been trying their best in our low-light living room for two years where I perched them atop stacks of books thinking they brought life to the room. Now that they live next to Franklin in our abundantly sunlit bedroom, the whole apartment feels better. My woo woo side knows it’s because everyone is properly set up now for their growth journeys. We’re all ready to blossom.
Before I met Alan, I decided once and for all that I would have a boyfriend. I had no idea when or how I would find him but somehow, I pushed the need for those answers out of my brain and existed in a state where I knew I was loved by someone. Before going to sleep every night, I would listen to music that made me feel like I was in love. I’d envision dancing in the kitchen while cooking with this man, drinking wine and doing dishes and laughing together. It was such a lovely practice that really and truly made me feel in love and while telling you this is arguably very embarrassing, being in love is miraculous so who cares?! This is the energy I bopped around with everyday and, ask any manifestation guru, it’s probably why when Alan and I did, four months after meeting, finally have our first date, we fell easily into a healthy relationship.
One week shy of my 52nd Chapter here and I’m seeing journeys with more dimension. I’ll always love a montage but give me all the moments in between too. Daydreaming while washing my hair. Inspiration while shopping for produce. Pondering how even the two minutes it takes my electric toothbrush to cycle through my teeth cleaning is a journey in itself. An adventure that leaves you still as you but with bigger dreams fueled by deeper wisdom. Several times over the past year, I’ve marveled at the need to remind myself that I am living a dream dreamt by my past self. A fantasy that I used to agonize over, pray and wish, kick and scream for that now I inhabit like it’s normal. How absolutely absurd.
Watch a toddler throw a tantrum. There is so much humor in their frustration. We understand, with deep compassion, their tiny capacity to hold such huge emotions. It is both hilarious and heartbreaking. At the beginning of a journey or inception of a dream, as adults, can we remember that same empathy for ourselves? When we start, we are stiff. Flexibility comes with practice, slow stretching so we don’t get hurt. Our containers expand as we fill them with all the middle stuff, the moments of life that prepare us, make space to carry endings and even more beginnings. This walk through the seasons. May it see us learning to appreciate all the parts, beginning, middle and end. Opening our leaves, reaching new heights and marveling at sights we could never have dreamt of or seen before. Things once seemingly hard now wholly natural. A constant journey. A constant journey. A constant journey.
WATCHING
Will you even believe that we are watching Star Wars and it’s an absolute blast?? Going in order of release as opposed to chronologically although I sort of wish we’d done the latter.
MAKING
This dress that I thought would be as easy as one single stitch down the back until I realized I’d need to leave room for my ample bottom.
They sell this fabric at JoAnn’s that is pre-ruched which makes it easier to make this dress!
LISTENING
If you haven’t, you should check out my friend, Alicia’s, Substack where she posts a weekly podcast. If you’re into healing, you’ll love it.
This definitely feels like the post that should have come next week, the 52nd Chapter that will mark a year of posting weekly but alas, something will come for that.
Very excited to bring you next week’s chapter and also a podcast/cooking video mashup this month with my friend, Joe. Also, looking forward to the Fall where I will be writing two extra essays a month for paid subscribers and also a small cookbook to say thank you!
Hope you are off to an incredible August. I absolutely cannot believe summer is coming to a close in a little over a month. Talk to you soon!
xoxo.
Although, I do believe a Pothos can survive nearly ANYTHING. This particular plant is at least 30 years old, a clipping from my second grade teacher that I gifted to my mom for Mother’s Day from which we have sprouted at least 25 other plants…
Love the painting choice! It is perfect! And love your life affirming words…Truly inspirational. Love you too!!
“What seems challenging today will one day become your warm-up!”
52 weeks goes by quickly. Proud of you for sticking to it, Boo.