Accumulate

I wanted to write you this morning, and I needed to write. Over the last few months, I’ve put pen to paper more than posting. A lot of it isn’t even worth mentioning, but writing does make me feel better. I’m not sure if that has always been true or if it came to be. Regardless, it’s a good thing to know. Now, to just be more consistent in practice. One thing I wonder about fairly often is if others have as many ideas or questions in their head as I do. To me, most people seem leaps and bounds ahead of me when it comes to articulating an idea or feeling. It takes me time and deliberation. And being concise—forget about it! I’ve been lucky enough to have a couple of people in my life who manage to translate my jumbled, rambling language into sensible speech. Bless those friends and bless those of you with the patience to sift through my thoughts without a translator! It’s part of why writing is so important to me. It helps me connect the idea dots in my head and heart. But, don’t worry, there are times when my brain feels completely incapable of producing anything, let alone something interesting.

That brings me to clown 🤡. With me, I hope all roads always lead to clowns. I have no plan for a professional clown career, nor have I had any breakthroughs in class recently. It’s been good to fail in that space though…ego-bruising, but helpful. Those classes can be silly, weird, dark, beautiful, or even crude. The people I’ve taken classes with for about six months now have become an unexpected community of care. I often feel like I don’t fit in— though because of that I kind of do. The creativity that bubbles up is boundless. I like being there because I crave more boldness there. Recurring feedback from my clown teacher:

• Keep energy up

• Be bigger

Welp, are you thinking what i’m thinking? Notes for life. I titled this post Accumulate because when I was in elementary school, I lost a spelling bee on that word. And now I wonder if it was meant to be a word I remember. Not in a hoarder sense, but in an experiential way. ChatGPT told me the word "accumulate" means to gather or collect something over time. It can refer to physical things (like snow, books, or clutter) or abstract things (like knowledge, debt, or emotions). And so with a rare confidence, I confess i’ve become an accumulator.

Hi

I wanted to write a hello. It’s been a minute since i’ve posted and I want to assure you that doesn’t mean I haven’t been writing. I have but it’s mainly been in fits and starts…probably a little more starts and fits. I’m working on my rhythms and finding the balance of journaling, letter writing, and story writing. I love it all and to be frank, I believe I need it all. So, it’s making the time. I’ve been taking clown classes in Atlanta since last fall. That’s something, isn’t it. I’m a self-proclaimed strange person who tries my best to be adaptable. Some days I’m better at it than others. I met a woman last night who was thrilled to share that she is a “hobbyist.” Right now she’s in a gardening phase (researching and waiting for spring to plant). She had a list of other things she was excited to try this year. I loved her enthusiasm and joy in making it a year of trying things, be it finding one hobby or being a hobbyist - on a journey to try new things! Somewhere along the way, I misplaced the delight in trying new things. Instead, I focus on how behind I am on a project or how far I am from my big hopes. When that gets in the forefront of my mind, I forget to shake off the frustration and blocks and try something new, explore a city, take a class I have no skills for, listen to a speaker, find a community service opportunity in the city, etc. I want more of that. The hobbyist probably had no idea the impact she was leaving on me last night but my goodness, did she! Do you have a hobby or many hobbies? Right now, I’d say mine could use a little refreshing!

Fun things I have been enjoying:
TV Show - Slow Horses (Apple +)
Movie - Night at the Museum (rewatch)
Audio Book - Shakespeare The Man Who Pays the Rent (Judi Dench)
Creative - William Kentridge (South African artist)

Brooklyn, Brooklyn

She spent her afternoons in Green-wood Cemetery. For Pippa, it was the most peaceful place in all of Brooklyn. With nearly 500 acres to wander through, boredom was never possible. The cemetery was sacred— the one place she could recharge her weary body and sort through the noise. She needed this place. New York was busy and more difficult than she'd imagined. Was it worth it?

Was living in New York worth the stress of never knowing whether you’d make rent until it was due? Was it worth the exhaustion, the city grime, the visible depravity of the world each day? The seasons of depression, tiny bedrooms, the lonely commutes home? Was it worth it?

She’d close her eyes and wait for an answer. Experiences, faces, and words would burst into view. And if anyone walked past Pippa in that moment, they would see a woman with her eyes closed and a smile on her softened face. She heard the wind in trees and the birds singing.

“Yes” her bruised heart exclaimed! “Yes,” she whispered to herself as to not disturb the sacred space around her. She didn’t know for how long. Each time she made a promise to stay.