This week I want to share an essay with you that I wrote recently for TOWN Magazine. You might like it if 1) you enjoyed “My Aimless April,” the piece about letting myself off the hook after experiencing rejection this spring, or 2) you find it funny that I once hitchhiked in Southern Italy.
Special thanks to Blair Knobel, one of my “lifers” and friend of WE’RE ALL FRIENDS HERE, for creating space for these ideas as TOWN’s editor. Making things you like with people you love is one of life’s great gifts.
Without further ado, and praising these long, lazy days of summer, I give you “The Beauty of Aimlessness.”
Between you and me—
On Monday my husband, one-man sounding board for WE’RE ALL FRIENDS HERE and occasional editor, said he enjoyed last week’s thoughts about July Fourth, and he’d missed my notes at the bottom of the newsletter. He’d missed them! This person is still holed up with me for 24 hours a day. I thought that was cute.
The notes have been shorter because, when Reconnection Season hit, I fell into a pattern of squeezing most work for this newsletter into Saturday morning right before it’s published. What that means, on an energetic level, is a race to the finish line. What it means on a practical level is that I have less time for musings here in our little space for catching up. This pattern comes from being out in the world more and trying to balance the excitement of that with my work. Also, and this has been the case since day one of this column, I cannot control when The Idea for a given week will strike. I always need space between one Saturday and the next before something that feels worthwhile downloads itself into my brain. So at the end of the week, I am busy writing and editing, and editing again.
John, who in addition to the roles named above also serves as a sort of career coach and cheerleader, says I should prioritize WE’RE ALL FRIENDS HERE and writing above all else. He makes that sound easier than it actually feels. But I am trying. I might even sit down at the computer—like on a Tuesday, before any ideas come knocking—and stare at a blank screen for a while to see what happens. Like without opening email. Or reading headlines. Or texting friends. This is the writing advice given by Ann Patchett in “The Getaway Car,” which you can find in This Is the Story of a Happy Marriage. If you receive more love letters in the months ahead, you will know that I succeeded.
I mentioned last week that fire and heat wave season has my focus back on the climate crisis, where it always hovers but sometimes flits around more urgently than others. This week I read a simplistic take on the classes the climate emergency will expose: those who can flee and those who cannot; an example of how the crisis is already affecting cities that seem exempt from rising sea levels but are not immune to other nightmares—in this case, Chicago; and worried about those who don’t have access to air conditioning in the heat. Speaking of our cool-air-blasting machines, when I checked to see what The Baffler had published on climate recently, I found a piece outlining this year’s climate-related catastrophes (already a long list, only two weeks into summer) and the effect modern comfort, in the form of air conditioning, has on our resolve to make change.
I share these with you not to spread the hum of existential dread and impending doom the topic carries, but because one reason we gather here each week is to cultivate open eyes, open hearts, and the courage to change the world. What fuels courage more than god’s honest truth?
One challenge of making change happen is the inevitable collision of existing frameworks with revolutionary ideas and building blocks from the future. Those of us who are critical of oppressive systems find it tempting to check out completely, acting in defiance and refusing to perpetuate harm, but checking out does not help facilitate the messy transition from what exists now to what we want to exist as soon as possible. This week I was inspired by Nikole Hannah-Jones’ stance against UNC and racist institutions. She manages to keep one foot grounded in future vision while playing ball with academia and journalism as they stand today, ultimately wielding her power and influence to make positive change for her community.
On a lighter note, I loved this piece on the rise of the bimbo, the himbo, and hyper-femininity. Related: “The best way to succeed as a female artist is being old.” And in case it wasn’t obvious from my piece on finding your voice a la Joni and Britney, I am fully invested in the #FreeBritney movement. Team end the conservatorship. Team let Britney be Britney. If you haven’t frantically scanned the airwaves searching for her live testimony to manically send all your friends, have you even lived? This week was scintillating: We saw an investigative report in the New Yorker (from Jia, no less), and Spears’ manager and attorney both resign in one day. Move over, creepy family. It’s all happening!
As I’ve mentioned before, my daily exercise takes shape in walking—I walk several miles a day and don’t feel great when I can’t. I’ve always enjoyed walking but after living in New York for a year came to crave it more. As a practice it is fundamental to my wellbeing. I loved Nguyen Anh-Huong and Thich Nhat Hanh’s thoughts on walking meditation in Tricycle:
When we walk in forgetfulness, we imprint our anxieties and sorrows on Mother Earth and on those around us. But when we walk in mindfulness, each step creates a fresh breeze of peace, joy, and harmony.
I’d love to be that fresh breeze. Yet trying to figure out where to live and what I might contribute to the world these past few years has occasionally left me exhausted, depleted, and confused. So every day I am working to attain the simple goal these teachers describe for walking meditation: To make my destination the here and now.
Till next week—take care out there.
WE’RE ALL FRIENDS HERE is written by Lauren Maxwell. If you enjoy this newsletter, please consider supporting it by becoming a sponsor, clicking the heart, sharing online, or forwarding to a friend. You can also buy Lauren a coffee. It all helps!