ON SOFT-LANDING LEARNING, THE GIFT OF NEGLECT, AND SMELLING A VACATION ON THE HORIZON
Thursday June 24 and Friday June 25 2021
Dear Sarah,
I love to hear about your work on your writing project for your niece! I am very curious to see and hear more about how it’s coming along and to toss around ideas! I’m feeling like I could use some inspiration to bring myself back around to my own creative work. It’s always there rumbling (sometimes trickling, pooling, eddying) in the background, but I need to bring it into the foreground, truly!
I’ve been a bit lost this week but the highlight of things has been my two stints of mulberry picking. I don’t think I’d actually tasted a mulberry until I came to Minnesota, though I grew up in my earliest years at a house that had a mulberry tree in the backyard, always making a mess. I learned how to ride my bike on my own in that backyard, falling in the mulberries. I can’t recall if anyone else tried to help me learn how to ride my bike on a sidewalk in the normal fashion (grass is fairly inhospitable to a new rider picking up the skill) or if I balked with the fear of falling on the cement and getting scraped up, self-selecting for a solo soft-landing learning experience. But my overarching memory of learning how to ride a bike is of messing around in the mulberries in the yard by myself. Here in Minnesota there are a number of mulberry trees that line the loop around the lake nearby, and M and I have typically picked one or two and enjoyed them while out walking. Last year I saw a woman rustling around under a low-hanging tree’s canopy, and realized she was picking mulberries, collecting them in a bag. Then I learned that a friend of mine was baking with them. Over this winter I pledged to become a mulberry picker myself, and this week I did it! (And, in fact, I saw the same woman from last year out picking berries again!) Mulberries are delicate, staining your fingers even when you pick them gently; their berry flavor is subtle and sweet, not so tangy unless you pluck a not-quite-ripe one. I went picking on Monday and again on Thursday, and ate some of my gatherings straight off, then washed and froze a quantity of the rest; I’d say I froze about a quart container full of berries. One part of me wants to enjoy them in the winter, a touch of summer during the cold months, but I think it would be best not to let them sit in the freezer so long, losing their special flavor. I am considering making mulberry shortcakes sometime soon!
Here is something I just learned about the mulberry tree: It is generally a short-lived tree with a lifespan comparable to that of humans, although there are some specimens known to be more than 250 years old. I like the idea of a tree with a lifespan comparable to humans, though doesn’t that somehow make our lifespan seem shorter than you’d like to think? Life seems long if you think of the longest-lived humans getting to be 80, 90, 100 years old, but trees seem like they are supposed to live longer than that.
Another fact (can this be true?): It is also notable for the rapid release of its pollen, which is launched at greater than half the speed of sound. Its berries are edible when ripe. (The latter statement I know empirically to be true!) Here is more on its pollen release: The white mulberry is scientifically notable for the rapid plant movement involved in pollen release from its catkins. The stamens act as catapults, releasing stored elastic energy in just 25 μs (microseconds). The resulting movement is approximately 380 miles per hour, about half the speed of sound, making it the fastest known movement in the plant kingdom. I am delighted to learn that in this life there is an area of research on the speed of movements in the plant kingdom, and that the messy delicious mulberry is the fastest! It may only live about as long as a human but it is living fast, making the most of its time on this earth!
I love to gather and type out facts like this from Wikipedia and elsewhere on the internet. If I had lived a long time ago, perhaps I would have been a monk, transcribing books from one copy to the next. It just feels good sometimes, typing or writing words that aren’t coming from your own brain — seeing the words spill out onto the page, a hand-eye project instead of a deep-brain and hand-eye project. You told me once about a friend who does transcription work and these days I’m thinking that that sounds right up my alley!
I’m so looking forward to seeing you next week! Until then it will be a treat to read your words tonight! Have a lovely commitment-free weekend, absent any grueling high-heat bike riding!
Until soon!
Yours,
Eva
P.S. I mentioned my margaritas from last weekend when we talked this morning, and reading over last week’s letters again, I can’t help but think you planted the margarita seed for me! A delicious suggestion!
P.P.S. I love Frog and Toad! “I’m going home now to bake a cake.” They’ve got a lot of soul!
June 25, 2021
Dear Eva,
It is just after 8 PM on Friday, and I am finally sitting down to assemble a letter out of a smorgasbord of thoughts collected over the course of the week. I always get a little nervous waiting this long to even start a draft. Will my Friday evening self be cranky with my Friday morning self for putting this off? Or worse yet, will my Friday evening self just call it quits? Time will tell! I better get to typing while the momentum is still there.
Last week we were definitely singing the same tune, or maybe it was the same melody with different tunes. Either way, I think it’s clear—we need a break! Time to air out the old mental pathways, stretch our muscles, let our minds wander. I smell a vacation on the horizon, and I cannot wait!
This week was no less filled with obligations, but I navigated it differently. Maybe it was your words about the death drive that got me thinking twice about my impulse to just do one more thing to make tomorrow easier, to somehow clear my plate to make room for a different, spacious type of working and living that of course is a mirage. My retired father will often say he was “too busy” to do X or Y on a given day, or even over an entire week. Let that be a lesson for us; there will always be someone or something there to fill any open space we clear in our drive to wrap things up. I made a concerted effort this week to think about my days more as units of time (was a it a good day) rather than units of progress (what did I accomplish).
I am certain this is a recurring theme in our letters, but I am forever flummoxed by the time and energy that everything, and I mean everything, takes. And yet we are so quick to give each other and ourselves credit for some energy-suckers and not others. I am thinking about the 71 (77!) mile bike ride versus the labor it took to think about and acquire gifts for B and my dad for Father’s Day, or to go through the orientation materials for J’s upcoming day camp, or to send a reply to my dad’s angry response to an article I sent him. It all takes work!
Across the board, I wish it were always more obvious to me where I should invest my energy. Even small things require an investment, like explaining a concept to someone who doesn't understand, or trying to make an argument for an important policy position I believe in. Living in a sea of red means I am surrounded by possible fights I could partake in, from the legislature down to the PTA, or even to the friendly(ish) debate about an issue with conservative relatives. Which energy-suckers can we morally opt out of? It is a privilege to be able to pick and choose. For so many, the daily challenge of educating others about their own very realities and identities is a part of life. Imagine the energy required!
Last week you mentioned the relief that can come with someone else bearing responsibility for something, whether it is a decision to be made or an action defended. This made me think of my recent transition to a role at work where things are my responsibility in a new and different way. It is indeed a very different kind of pressure and level of scrutiny, and with it comes a different kind of energy drain in the form of explaining and justifying decisions. But I am also finding it invigorating at times because it is motivating to know I have the agency to do things as I see fit. This last bit has to do with stretching, which was something I did not think I would have the opportunity to do again at this job. For so long, I have had to find ways to stretch myself, outside the confines of the job. One way I challenged myself was becoming comfortable with open time. It’s hard to believe, but I know long ago I was known to say things like “I have no hobbies” and struggled mightily when I faced a day without external constraints. The gift of learning to make yourself happy is not one you usually would credit to a job but in my case it fits. It is a bit like a kid learning to entertain themselves when they are bored. Sometimes neglect can be a gift.
On a similar note, J has definitely caught his stride on this whole summer thing. He now spends most days sitting on the top of the neighbor’s car with an iPad and his very own Spotify account, singing to awful pop music with his friend. These same tunes make their way into our house as well, and they are cued up every time we drive anywhere. While he listens, he also researches. We have learned about Justin Bieber’s height and weight, Post Malone’s sexual orientation, and the names and ages of all seven members of BTS. Observing this earnest obsession has got me thinking about the different bubbles we all operate in, and the way ignorance of opinions outside your bubble can bestow misplaced confidence. J has no idea that more than half the world despises this music! Instead, he sees the Spotify numbers telling him that these are the most popular performers in the world and he is convinced he has his finger on the pulse. It is adorable and delightful (albeit a little irritating when the music never stops), and I am genuinely curious how long this particular phase will last. Watching someone gradually learn about the world is truly fascinating.
This letter has taken shape quite differently from what I intended, but there are words on a page and that is all you or I really require here from Friday Night Sarah. I imagine you are well on your way to enjoying a merry first evening in Wisconsin with your friends. I can’t wait to hear all about it, especially because I will be able to do so IRL next week! Have a wonderful weekend, and I will talk to you and see you soon!
Yours,
Sarah