worth rememberings.
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Dear ones,
Inevitably, I am reflecting on the past year, which was, as I’ve written about time and again, a deeply painful and challenging year. There was grief and depression and figuring out living alone and immense financial stress and navigating the hardships of a new long-distance relationship and and and….There was also: joy and love and care and anarchists and day-long hikes in the Spanish countryside and a weirdly wonderful writing retreat on an island off the shores of Canada and a foray into a new line of work that has absolutely changed my life. It has been a full year, a year of brokenness and repair, of banality and adventure, of sobbing on the bathroom floor while Buddhist podcasts play in the background and also ecstatic moving on a makeshift dance floor while sick beats and my friends’ laughter plays in the background.
I could say so much more, but it’s also been a year of boundaries and privacy, of knowing I don’t have to share until I’m ready, and maybe that means never at all. I have kept things a little closer to my chest this year, heeding for now the advice to “write from the scar and not the wound.” Someday maybe this year will be a book, but for now the truest parts are offered as mostly vague summaries of overarching emotions. Enough, for now.
However, I am happy to share in detail about a handful of things from the year that I loved. From pop culture, to local things, to memories, a brief list before the lists of….
Five Random but Beloved Things Worth Remembering from 2022:
The “Hurricane” Video from Plains and Aidy Bryant
I am never quiet about my love for all things Crutchfield-sister, but I want to especially shout out this absolutely perfect video for my favorite track from the Plains album. The aesthetic of the video is one of the most evocative I’ve ever encountered; they are conjuring a very particular ambience from roughly the late 80s, from a very particular working-class sensibility. I keep trying to find the perfect language to describe the affect it generates, but all I can land on is that it is the basement rec hall in a rural-ish town and it smells like cigarettes and when you open the door you can hear Bonnie Rait blasting from someone’s single mom’s beat up wood-paneled station wagon. It is a viscerally nostalgic video, and I am in awe of how it nails such a vibe. The song is also romantic and beautiful and I love it so much.
The Farmers Market
The practice of walking two miles to the farmers market nearly every Saturday from June through today has been a powerful ritual. I walk and notice the changes in the trees, the river under the bridge. I arrive and notice the changes in the harvest, the vegetables available, the energy in the air. I am so grateful for this all-morning routine that encourages presence and a connection to the local land. I am so grateful for the bounty and the farmers and the smiles I share with strangers every week. What a gift in a hard year.
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