This phrase has been lingering in the back of everything I do lately: the soft wild. It’s a lighthouse, shining light onto something that I didn’t know I really wanted. No, I’m not changing substack names (again!!) nor will I be starting another new substack (again!!). Instead, I want to incorporate one little story that falls into this category, which course I am defining myself, but this phrase echoes of what I am wanting our summer to feel like (with maybe some coastal granny vibes for myself, despite not being a granny!!) and also what I unknowingly have thought my restorative yoga classes feel like.
So here it is, our second full week of summer break— The Soft Wild.
(ps, the audio has extras today, in case you don’t listen normally)
The Essence of Summer can be captured in a Sno-cone
One of the things on my summer “bucket list” is to try as many shaved ice/snow cone places around town and rate the best according to each of us (and yes, I bring the kind of whimsy in making my own cards that star rate on service and taste/snow cone, along with a place for notes). We have one on a Saturday, it’s their breakfast and I ask myself is there much of a difference between this and a Good Pop popsicle for breakfast? This is what summer should be like: frozen treats for breakfast and the autonomy to decide which one is your favorite.
This… and Joan Didion
I’m listening to an audio of “Slouching from Bethlehem” because I can’t get enough of the stories. There is something familiar in her written words— that even though it has been just over 20 years since I have lived there, it makes me crave being home. I didn’t think I would be one to want to move back and I’m not totally sure that I do. And yet….
There is a part of me that longs for the Santa Cruz mountains and the way you can see the ocean from a particular hiking spot I used to love. I miss the smell of the redwood trees and want more than anything to bring the boys to stay in a cabin at Sequoia National park. Then there is the part of me, for my own self, that wants to go to Twain Hart and see the little cabin that we had visited, some extended family member’s but I can’t recall whose, the place where I sipped Tang and snuck Folger’s instant coffee and after one particular romp around a dry creek bed, came back with 100 mosquito bits (or so I recall counting).
There is a part of me that wants to go back to Monterey and see with these different eyes the places I used to hang out as a fresh adult after reading John Steinbeck. Another part wants to walk through the central valley and appreciate it more than just a place we spent summers with family when my dad had to work. I wonder if it’s Joan’s telling of her own misremembered and told as truth past or if there is another part, a deeper part in me that rings true that California will always be home. (this share is clearly NOT about eating watermelon or Joan, not really).
I’m getting better… no really
May’s roll of film came back and I was surprised to see how the photos came out. It’s getting there. I’m getting there.
Something from “The Creative Act” by Rick Rubin keeps coming up for me (especially with photography), he tells a story about a professor who gave one class the challenge of taking one great photo by the end of the term and another class the challenge of taking some large sum of photos (my mind says 100, but I feel like it’s probably more). The class given the freedom to take a bunch of photos found more great shots because of the freedom to take as many as they could. The other class were stunted by the pressure to get THE GREAT ONE.
I’m reminded of this and remind others when we have our “let’s make art” dates that we are doing it because it’s how we get better. It’s how we find enjoyment. And how we find what we love!
Screen free eating
The waitress comes by and says how nice it is to watch us laugh and play and eat pizza. That more often than not, everyone is one their phones, but here we were playing “go fish” waiting for food.
They may not love it when I pull out the cards, no longer asking but ensuring that this is how we spend our time. It’s not about the game, it’s the time we get to spend together. It’s how it’s an open door for them to talk to me about anything, everything. They may roll their eyes, but I will keep doing this (although we may switch to Uno No Mercy) and offering a space to play and be kids.
Five Invitations:
These are the 7 not five Joan Didion June inspired prompts I wrote this week. I hope you enjoy them too!
What I’m not saying out loud but need to write down.
What feels like smoke right now—thick, heavy, almost invisible.
The texture of my life today.
I want to believe in ____, but I don’t.
A story I’ve outgrown, even though I still wear it like a jacket.
Who I become when no one’s watching.
Five things I saw today that no one else did.
I know these are shorter than what I normally offer, but I hope you will find something in them just the same! I’m off on to go adventure today, I can’t wait to share next week!
xo, liz
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