Before we dive in I urge you, if you haven’t yet, to watch or read the transcript of documentarian Ken Burns’ commencement speech for Brandeis University. It is one of the most impactful, intelligent, and deeply moving things I’ve read in a very long time.
How was your long weekend? I’m happy to report mine was sweet and full of family. We made the long road trip to see my sister and her family in Indiana. There were lots of cousin giggles and good food. My husband and I ran out to do a quick errand at one point and a funny feeling hit me. I noticed how effortless it was to just be right there, in Indiana in the summer running out to get something from the store.
Fun fact, I was partially raised in Indiana. I lived there from age 2 to age 9. We lived in a few different homes and neighborhoods as my father earned more. We started in a small house in a small town and decamped for a farm rental only to return and purchase a home in a shiny, new little neighborhood in the same town we started in.
I’m decades removed from living in that state now and yet as the weekend unfolded it all felt so familiar. Flat, wide-open spaces, a sense of newness to the buildings the further they get from the center of town, the sound of doves cooing at dusk, perfectly manicured lawns and the sound of mowers running well into the evening, the smell of farmland mixed with the scent of incoming summer storms, the way the sun stays out until 9PM, sunsets that stretch the entire horizon unbroken by high rises or tall trees, the casual way people dress, the way they ask about your family in the checkout line, the smell of cookouts drifting past from 5 PM well into the night, and so on.
Of all the topics we ponder in this newsletter, identity is the thing I come back to ruminating on most often. In my day-to-day life I don’t feel much connection that Indiana child that I was. With my Jersey address and my job in the big city and my 15 years on the East Coast, that midwest piece of me feels so distant. But turns out all it needs is some nostalgic nudges to revive itself. I say nostalgia but even typing that I know that’s not the right word. What I felt this past weekend was ease, familiarity, an odd sense of being at home in a place that is a far cry from it. It made me think about effort. How much effort I’m unconsciously putting into my day-to-day simply by nature of not being “from here.”
It’s not as though living in the East Coast is a burden. I prefer it now for a pile of reasons. But that made the sensation of effortlessness this weekend all the stranger. It wasn’t a weight off my shoulders but rather a small relief, like taking off a necklace after a long day. Just the slightest heaviness removed. It got me thinking about the spaces that provide that feeling and how to get more of it.
A couple weeks ago on another long drive I spoke with a beloved friend for two-and-a-half hours while I drove. That sense of effortlessness was there. I wasn’t watching what I said. I was just speaking, just pouring out my soul. And afterward there it was—that weightlessness, that relief. I feel it in the company of friends like her. The ones I don’t wear a mask for. I feel it holding my little ones close at night. I feel it in the quiet of a long drive to a new adventure with my husband. And I felt it on that wide Indiana highway, just running out to grab a few things while the crickets chirped and later when the sun carved a lazy path down to the top of the fence while we sat on the deck and stared and talked. Comfort, ease, effortlessness. Things I wish you all in the summer nights and weekends to come.
Still thinking about…..
Saying it again, read or watch Ken Burns’ speech it is utterly mind-blowing
One of my favorite artists is starting a private community and I can’t wait!
Officially on the hunt for silk/satin pants. Planning to check out these, these, these, and these.
This video made my heart clench. It’s worth a watch.
Reallllly want to make this but terrified I’ll eat the entire thing.
Speaking of sweet things just look at this gorgeous Instagram account. Drool.