The paradox of holding everything lightly

and other lessons of letting go

What’s up, my dudes, dudettes, and dudxs? Happy Pride and Breakup of World’s Richest Man from World’s Most Powerful Man for all those who celebrate.

It’s summerish here in Juneau, Alaska, but it feels like fall, which makes me happy and everyone else miserable.

This week, I visited many worlds. In the morning, it was that of Curtis Yarvin’s mindf—k, profiled in the New Yorker. Yes, the neo-reactionary, racist, poo-pooer of democracy, slash mastermind of #47’s inner enclave. One part fascinating, one part terror. (I think the dopamine receptors of my brain are addicted to horror. Send help.)

In the afternoon, the new world visited was an old-growth moss-warped fairyland forest. My son and I mountain biked through fragrant cottonwood, then ditched our bikes to bushwhack over tree stumps and brook, and the home of Baba Yaga.

Soon, we emerged onto the raw scar of a glacier, where gashes of red iron etched in rock interrupted yellow-green lichen. Rumi discovered that she enjoys water while fetching sticks in the ice-cold glacial lake. All icebergs have since dissolved.

Leaving cairns along the way so we wouldn’t get lost (my son’s idea), we scrambled up slick rocks, hoisting ourselves with tree trunks grown out sideways, then slid down the other side. My sweet son yanked back the more aggressive spruce trees, so I could get by without impaling my face on their spikes.

The best part was flying home on mountain bikes, navigating roots and rocks like ninjas, wind in our ears and faces. How the 18-year-old body remembers: Lean back. Hold on lightly.

I have been white knuckling it for so long, I’d forgotten the feel of the wind’s breath, washing and rinsing.

Then, the freedom of emptiness, puffing off thoughts like dandelion seeds. Pema Chödrön says freeing our minds from stories, resisting the urge to create narratives out of every situation, allows us to experience greater peace and happiness.

And yet, we are writers and readers… Hence:

Another world I visited was my friend’s new library/coffee shop. Lodestone Library was founded to build community and nurture creativity. 100% of proceeds go to rent the space and keep the lights on. All employees are volunteers.

A business is built to nurture community and creativity and not profit? Goals! Also… how???

Anyway, it’s my new happy place. Like ASMR for artists, writers, and book nerds. All the tickles.

Last weekend I celebrated two friends’ birthdays. The owner of “Alaska’s only arthouse cinema” celebrated with us, so we had the Goldtown Nickelodeon theater and all the popcorn to ourselves.

Wearing sequins and sparkles, we watched “Wine Country,” starring SNL alum Tina Fey and Amy Poehler (my jaw hurt from laughing), which is appropriately about middle-aged women who love each other dearly. And yet, some things still go unsaid. Hilarity and a lot of paella ensue.

I feel blessed to be in relationship with friends in which we can pretty much say everything. I’m a writer, for goddess sake, an open book. After a lifetime of self-contorting, it’s pretty special when you no longer need to shapeshift to be loved and accepted.

the feral-est

The days are long, wet, and cold. Weather is fleeting, flowers are confused, and the world is insane. I’m holding onto all of it lightly, like a cumulus cloud.

Well, this post meandered like an Alaskan summer day. Feel free to leave comments and complaints at the bottom of the nonexistent paywall. Hearts and shares are also appreciated.

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Xo,

Summer