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On one of my runs this week, I noticed a thicket of roses spilling over a picket fence. Wayward and adventurous, they tendriled around one another, the wooden stakes, neighboring trees. I thought to myself: Jen, it’s OK to let yourself spill over sometimes. I’ve been flirting with this theme the past few weeks, longing to go easy. I’ve been slowing down and indulging myself in a more protracted process of exercising, showering, drinking a green juice in the backyard, caring for my hair, going to bed earlier. But sometimes these routines can veer into their own category of discipline: I am finding myself determined to complete my fitness videos every morning, and get to bed by 9:30, and drink enough water. What new logjams have I built for myself in the name of taking up more space in my day? Is this really what it’s like to “go easy”? Am I manufacturing something best left to organics?
I’ve been reflecting on this the past few days in the context of our collective grooming routines — how much time and effort and discipline we put into our own self-maintenance. Most of this is healthful, I think: we are keeping ourselves in good condition. We are treating ourselves with care. As one Magpie put it: “Being a shadow of myself can’t be of service to anyone.” But at what point do these rituals become a kind of obeisance?
Here is the pith: I am disciplined, sometimes to a fault, but what am I a disciple of, or to?
Landon frequently reminds me that I love to make up rules and then hold myself accountable for them. I routinely imagine regulations and deadlines that have never once been mentioned to me. I can be terribly inflexible with myself. Some of this stems from the work ethic I inherited from (or modeled upon) my father. You could call my Dad at 11 p.m. and launch right into a business problem, and he’d nod receptively, tenting his fingers in thought, and then dive right in. He is famous for shoehorning in a meeting or a work call or matter of business when everyone else is in wind-down mode. His energy: “Onward and full speed ahead.” Frankly, I admire this, and always have. I bring a similar intense determination to my own work, and to seeing things all the way through. This approach brought me great success in school and in my first few professional jobs, and was later corroborated by my work in multiple start-up and entrepreneurial environments, where I learned that if you don’t have a bias toward action, someone else will eat your lunch. There is a well-greased start-up philosophy on this point: “first mover advantage.” Andale! Carpe diem! Always be shipping (or cheesy product riff on “always be closing”). I internalized these lessons and have never quite divorced myself from them, even though my current professional and creative niche are a different kettle of fish entirely.
Another Magpie brought this schematic full circle when she wrote this week: “A few of your posts on allowing life to happen, even in the mundane tasks actually helped me shake my routine to make it easier. For example, I love to start the week with an everything shower but Sundays are always tough to carve out a pocket of time for myself: football Sundays, beach Sundays, running errands/meal prepping Sundays and I also just love to cook a “feast” of a meal and spend time with my family before starting the week. I started waking up a little earlier on Monday mornings (I WFH so it’s not too stressful), I start the masks/oils/potions part and after dropping my daughter to school, I finish off with the shower, I LOVE this new routine but it took me a long time to change it just bc I felt like this had to be done on a Sunday! Sometimes I am so rigid with myself for no reason ha!”
I think she’s put her finger right on the x. We can live in a routine, but we must make those routines work for us, not the other way around. The next time I find myself knotting up around a parameter, I’m going to take a beat to ask whether we’re looking at a garden stake or a great wall. Can I fudge it a bit? Can I get to this task tomorrow? Can I skip the last few minutes of the workout to make my life a little easier today? Can I rearrange my appointment so I can get to school without rushing? Etc.
What are your thoughts on this, Magpies? How and when do you let yourself spill over?
Also this week…
+The only time a pile of laundry brings me joy: when I’ve finished a full work out and am stepping into the shower. Its own kind of reward. Also, I’ve shared these Nikes so many times, but I do adore them. Every detail! The color, the support, the lightweight-ness, the smile on the insole. I just ordered these trail running shoes for Colorado and beyond, and love these lightweight, dri-fit caps — I never run without a hat. They keep sweat and sun out of my eyes, protect from UV rays, and kind of hide my make-up free face.
+First warm weather s’mores with friends.
+I was digging through my archives looking for the photo of myself wearing my HHH Cosima dress (re-released this summer in a similar, fabulous blue stripe — you must buy! So flattering and elegant and surprisingly versatile!) and found it (first photo below) but not before finding the two snaps adjacent to it, spotlighting my Tilly Girl. I can’t believe she was ours for so long, and now she’s gone. I did not have pets growing up and had no idea how intense or enduring the grief would be. Mr. Magpie and I were watching Wyatt Earp last weekend — one of Mr. Magpie’s favorites — and there’s a part where Wyatt watches his brother die in front of him. Out of nowhere, I started to sob. It’s not even a particularly poignant or intense part of the movie, which I realize is a strange thing to say given the subject matter, but the death is handled in a very quick-moving, big-Western way. Mr. Magpie looked over at me, startled. I told him that I still fixate on the moment that Tilly died in our arms. One second she was blinking between my palms, and the next, she was gone. I am haunted by the immediacy of her passing — it felt like the cruelest trick of time. Just one millisecond more. I feel, perhaps strangely, proud or satisfied in some abstract way that I was there with her when she went. What if she’d passed away while we were sleeping? In some ways, this might have been gentler on my heart, but in other ways, I feel that I owed her my presence, and I’m glad I was there, petting her ears, telling her “It’s OK, Tilly girl,” over and over into that black midnight. I realize these are intense thoughts to sandwich in after happy photos of s’mores, but this is the way of grief, isn’t it? Defying all logic and decorum. It will wallop you on a whistling Wednesday.
+Random bites I enjoyed this week: shrimp chips, procured from an Asian grocer (I love visiting international groceries and perusing the snack sections) and Van Leeuwen’s Affogato ice cream. My brother in law has an espresso machine and will often make affogatos for me for dessert when I visit — it is the most outrageously delicious and sophisticated dessert (he usually does a decaf one so I’m not wired for hours) and reminds me so much of him. I loved the connection.
+Two beauty products I am obsessing over at the moment: Roz’s hair serum (15% off! and my current go-to for detangling and priming before using my hot tools — all my fav hair care products here!) and Osea’s body oil. The latter is divinely lightweight and quick to absorb, but leaves a gorgeous sheen. I love its delicate citrus scent. (All my favorite summer skin products here.)
P.S. Always updating my Shopbop hearts.
P.P.S. Writing this while wearing this silk jogger set. Divine. DIVINE!
P.P.P.S. My updated Amazon storefront.