all posts, mortality, nature/the environment

Inconclusive and irrelevant titling 1

I’m getting tired of social media (namely instagram). It’s grasp on me is insidious and addictive, like eating sugar-free bars loaded with artificial chemicals and expecting to be healthy. The answer is obviously to remove the bandaid full sweep, and be free to let the sun reign down on the infested wound until the remnants are cleared out. But it’s so hard. It’s so addictive. It started out as a novel way to remember, to capture moments and present them in glossy snapshots. But slowly it became the type of game that isn’t fun- inadvertently tracking stats: followers, likes, comments, etc to see what kind of traction I’ve gained. What is this nonsense- gaining traction? Traction to what? I don’t want a career being beholden to my phone to make money or collect virtual fans. My whole being has grown to reject such premises for a good life. I want to touch the earth and wear dirt on my skin as often as I wear sunlight and the fragrances from what I can grow. I don’t want to have a life that requires filtering through the lens of a phone camera that is obsolete in two years time, (if that).

Also on a silly tangent, I’ve decided I’m tired of video chatting far away loved ones. From now on, starting with my sister, people must video chat me in-game with a Switch game (probably the new Animal Crossing). That way I have time to play it but without sacrificing time with family. And I’ve changed my mind, my love affair is with la langue française, so that will be the language I set my Switch to (but seriously, how could I not pick French given my primary years studying it, their healthy obsession with lavender and thyme, and them being the creators of chartreuse and farigoule, both of which I realized I love (both are herbal liquours… chartreuse is a coveted speciality with 130 herbs and plants that only 2 Carthusian monks know the entire formula for, and farigoule is a thyme liquour)). So anyway, yes, I am stacking my weird hobbies… learning french, playing video games, with faraway family socialization.

Other than that random decision, life proceeds forward as usual. The little one is so entertaining. We had our first conversation on the phone yesterday while Jake and I were preparing dinner and she was outside with Didi (her word for my mom). It went loosely as followed:

  • Me: Hello?
  • Figlet: Mama. Outside!
  • Me: Hi, Fi. You want me to come outside
  • Didi (in the background): you have to answer mama on the phone so she can hear you
  • Me: Fifi do you want mama to come outside
  • Figlet: Ya. Mama outside
  • Me: Okay, I’ll be out soon. Are you playing outside?
  • Figlet: Ya. Playing!
  • Me: Okay I am going to hang up now and come outside. Goodbye.
  • Figlet: Byebye.
  • Me: I love you
  • Figlet: I mumble mumble! *she hasn’t quite mastered the letter L yet*

I also finally have my hospice volunteer training on Sunday, and am still deep within my death doula course, which it helping me learn a lot and reflect on myself often. I have learned that I am definitely done online learning after this. I need in person stuff, or I prefer to just read things on my own. I also have had a lot of reflection on what has happened in my own life, how I perceive life and death, and what I think makes for a good life (and death).

I also have reconnected with my childhood roots. Turns out I am still obsessed with the field of naturalists (the environment studying group, not the nudists). I still want to find ways to learn all about the environments I live in, and create a magical little land for myself and for my little ones. I have so many ideas about what to do with the backyard now too; lots to grow, lots to clean up. Speaking of, we got our makeshift compost pile set up, complete with a “bridge” to walk over the muddy spots on the ground. Figlet likes to throw things into it, with a little assistance to get above the pit:

And we’ve been learning what we will be able to forage in our yard come the warmer seasons:

I also have started a love affair with the town of Frederick. It’s got awesome free events through their Master Gardeners program, and the downtown is so quaint. While some of my college friends were visiting this weekend we went their twice just to explore more. I also could help but purchase this hand forged necklace pendant of a fairy skeleton:

all posts, community, mental health, mortality, nature/the environment

death as my guide

Death studies

I have been reading books on books about death. Death from the perspective of the dying, death from the vantage point of medical professions, death from philosophers, death from people who have lost someone. It’s weird to say, but I love death stuff. Not because I am morbid and have a weird fascination with the idea of being dead (frankly that scares the bejeezus out of me and sends my head into terrifying loops trying to conceptualize it), but because outside of being born, dying/being dead is the only thing I will share with all humans/living things on earth (except maybe tardigrades, and I’m still not convinced they aren’t aliens).

It’s a strange place to be in, being a student of death. I began by systemically reading the most respected books on the subject, am currently looking for a hospice place to volunteer at, and I begin my formal death doula study work in January. In other words, I have jumped down the rabbit hole and am going full speed into embracing the world of mortality.

My shift into this new paradigm of living probably has heavy roots from a topic I mentioned in a previous post. If one lives in a culture obsessed with youth and our early years (think of all the adages we use: “age before beauty”  “you are young, live a little”, etc) having a condition such as eczema/TSW/gene mutation that causes you to have “aged” and sensitive skin to the extent that it alters how you live day to day… eventually you are bound to reflect on the life you are living. The serendipity of ending such a reflection ending up on death’s doorstep is when you look around, you realize everyone will eventually join you. When someone loses a loved one, they are faced with their mortality. When someone grows up able-bodied and becomes disabled, they reflect anew on their mortality. When one grows up in a society that values/develops around intrinsic factors that deviate from one’s own, the forced recognition of not being/having the “in” qualities caused mortal reflections. In every scenario, at some point everyone will be faced with accepting their mortality, so when you do, you are just accepting what makes you innately human, knowing you will die, and the company it comes with is surprising sweet.

I have also been plagued with the urge to try and communicate what I learn from my deep dive into death, and struggle to decide what medium works best to do so. My issue is that I prefer the written hand, but how can I reach others to connect with when the written world is dominated by themed bloggers with deep followings, pay-for-ad bloggers, lifestyle bloggers, and other algorithm-based advantaged bloggers. I miss the early blogging days where it was unique enough that getting your words out what enough to provoke communal responses, before it required hashtags and search optimization. Or maybe I am simply not as compelling of a writer or communicator or thinker, and so my words as mostly unheeded from the larger populace. Either option has the same result. I am stuck learning so much but unable to communicate it with mostly anyone other than my lovely husband, who can patiently decipher my meaning even when my words are obscured by months of sleep deprivation.

I recently also contemplated podcasts, despite my obvious inability to (compelling) speak aloud. My logic was that I would improve in the former, and that most people don’t enjoy reading long form anymore, unless it is streamlined directly into their subset of interest. But who knows, maybe I will return to this idea in a few months or so. It could be fun.

Speaking of months…

Ours flew by and we are finally all moved into our new home. It’s a lovely little 3-bedroom we are renting that is shaped in such a way that our baby’s room doesn’t receive much noise from our upstairs TV room, despite us being able to hear her from said bedroom. As a result, we have been able to talk above a whisper and host friends/my parents after the baby goes to sleep, despite her habit towards light sleeping.

It’s good to be home. I missed this neighborhood, with its friendliness and quirky characters. I am excited to see our little one grow up in this town that is not a town (actually though. I googled it and it is apparently a census-designated place or an unincorporated area with no definitive boundaries). We also have vultures…? I mean, yes of course. I’m studying death so a bird of death must appear!

photo_2019-12-01 17.00.59

At the same time, the transition here hasn’t as smooth as I would hope. Having lived away for years now, I have developed a plethora of bad habits that I need to break (like feeling trapped in a city and thus emotionally eating to the point that I gained 20+ pounds in a year!).

I also need to learn to balance my time in a whole new way now that I have more freedom (including the stress reduction of not being able to get myself and my little one forest bathing/into nature). The flip side of this lovely return to a land with trees and fewer cars is that I have been so inundated in environments that always have a heavy amount of ambient light that I no longer know how to sleep well in the deeper darkness of my childhood town. And at night, every sound this house makes sets me on edge (but that’s the case with almost all new places).

In lieu of sleeping

So now I’ve constructed this post to clear my mind. I also re-read many of my older posts. Since getting into death as a subject of interest, I have been reflecting a lot on myself. I have, and continue to, expend so much energy trying to conform to fit in with models of how I have been trained to believe the world needs to work. Many of my posts reflect this as I oscillate back and forth from trying to get my entrepreneurial start to trying to conform to a cookie cutter career; both in an attempt to fit in with this world model I have internalized from my years on this earth. I’m not saying that reflecting on my mortality has rid me of this tendency, but more so that it has helped me highlight the neuroses of it, which in turn is letting me better chip away at the anxiety that comes from it. Though I am no longer to having the ultimate job/career smoothly going, I have gotten better at trying to figure out what my self-decided purpose is with the time I have on this earth.

all posts, community, mental health, miscellaneous, nature/the environment

the night school (part 1)

I like finding free things to do online (21 days of yoga, weekly journal prompts, etc). I don’t always carry through with many of them, but I enjoy the challenge and the game of setting up something to do, and usually am drawn towards things that involved a lot of self reflection.

This particular project is called The Night School by Maia Toll. I am doing the “part-time” option, which means I will be focusing on the weekly writing prompts (because I don’t have the time or attention span to watch the discussion and ritual videos… I’m still not super into watching videos that require intense focus). But even so, just doing the weekly prompts includes readings from her book (see below) and some general context and discussion points. I look forward to seeing what comes of doing it for the “semester”.

Screen Shot 2019-09-11 at 1.06.35 PM.png

This week’s assignment was: What in the world feels alive to you and what feels lifeless? Why? Examine your preconceptions.

What feels alive to me? I think I define aliveness too literally, but the email also goes into detail about the energies of things which I find easier to relate to. When I was growing up in Maryland we lived near a small woods. The woods were cool because you couldn’t really get lost in them (it was fairly easy to run out into some neighborhood), but if you knew your way, you could walk through the woods to get all the way to the C&O canal without having to pass really anyone’s homes. I often went into these woods when I was annoyed or upset, or just when I wanted to bike/run through, and if it was getting later in the day and darkness started creeping in (as it always did in the woods before the neighbors since there were so many trees) I remember at some point I started talking to the woods asking for safe passage. I specifically would say the same phrase every time, in French, because I thought the language was older and thus more likely that the trees would know it. Now it’s also interesting because I never had the feeling that the woods were hostile or required me to ask for safe passage, but I always felt it deserved the respect of the question anyway, and that more likely the woods would protect me from something else. In other way, I never had anything bad or shady happen to me in the woods and I continue to visit it when I visit my parents.

Now living in the city where I do I have become much more anxious than I used to be. Part of it was working through my own neuroses of being a stay-at-home mom in a culture where that is very unusual (I am also a young mom in this particular city culture). But even as I work through that hurdle, I realize the city itself makes me anxious. It has such haphazard energy all the time. It is alway noisy during the day (July and September seem to be when all the road construction happens), but it’s also a tiny city that has narrow streets and crazy road patterns, and yet the same 1/4 mile strip of street will be shared with 3 separate road construction projects, 50+ cyclists who have to weave into car traffic to pass one another or to turn, pedestrians that no one can see due to parked cars, standing aside cross walks that have varying degrees of visibility (from electronically lit up to make shift single cones denoting the spot on the sidewalk where they should start to cross). The energy is impatient. People are constantly walking around, no smiles to spare (I often try to say hello to humans on principle and get a range of results). Though the speed isn’t always fast, the tempo varies abruptly as though the very act of having to engage with one another is a burden. And the chug of cars is never-ending. We have driven at all times and find that 3am to 8am is a pleasant time to drive on a weekend in the city. On a weekday, it’s more like 3am to 7am. The weather can be obnoxious, from sun beating down at all angles (it’s literally always directly in our faces when we drive in any direction in the morning) and the winds pick up strong enough to blow away our baby on account of the various wind tunnels created by lots of buildings and few trees. It feels chaotic and it often makes me agitated to encounter it. It took me a long time to realize that this pulse of energy existed and how it impacted me but over time it has become more clear.

Now that is not to say there aren’t pockets that are more peaceful. I keep finding some but the problem is they are hard to get too or fleeting in nature. For example, I jogged through the tree-part of the city to get to an open house for a toddler music class, and minus the fear of being late, the whole adventure was quite relaxing. It had the iconic early fall feel and the class was very cute. That kind of energy emitted a peace that I crave often, and as such, I’ll definitely be taking Fi back, but always by foot if possible.

Examining my preconceptions… well in a nutshell it would seem to follow the standard assumption of city = bad energy, and woods = good energy. But it could be argued that the reason I enjoyed my parents’ woods was because it was near enough to civilization that I never had to feel lost or in real danger. And it could be argued that there are cities that can exude a good time of peaceful energy, particularly ones that are not so jammed with traffic, have more explicit community, and dedicate more time to their green spaces equally across their land. And I know I personally wouldn’t enjoy living in a large woods all alone. I like people- or well, I like community. I think both extremes: alone in a large wood and emotionally alone in a dense city have the same energy to me, fearful. There is something I find primally terrifying about being alone. And not in a “I’ll have to do things for myself kind of way” but in a “no one will have your back if something goes wrong” kind of way. So resonant energies that feel good to me have to leak some kind of energy that feels communal. A crowded Boston T train doesn’t feel communal because everyone is looking out for themselves, usually annoyed to be on the train, and avoiding eye contact with one another, pretending they are alone while sandwiched like sardines. The idyllic memoirs of people traveling in European trains not so long ago had more of the communal feel, with older adults looking out for young children traveling alone, with space on trains to sit and eat, with an impetus to reach out and connect to your neighbor if for no other reason that to pass the time (and that was not unique to Europe, I just happened to have read a French memoir more recently).

Anyway, I’ll stop there for now. My brain has travelled off on to other things.

all posts, community, miscellaneous, nature/the environment

the man who tamed the birds

There are moments when we see something amazing, something that is out of the ordinary or just generally impressive. In these moments, it’s often the case that what we are seeing is Time.

As a new mom, with the privilege of choice to stay at home (which in itself is a misnomer of a phrase because the babe and I often venture out of the home ), I have an unprecedented view of Time. That isn’t to say that I have more time than anyone else, but that I am in a unique position to view it.

Often I must wait it out with Time as my babe sleeps. Time waits for no man, or so they say, but it does cozy down with a parent waiting on a sleeping child. Time and I, we sit and drink tea, and read books, and very often daydream in the quiet stolen moments of when the baby slumbers.

When the baby is awake we sometimes accompany Time on his off moments, the pockets of space where others are ensconced in their own busyness, to head out as a mother-daughter dyad and explore the world. We meander along aimlessly, especially if the weather is fair.

On one such occasion, walking down what I consider a confused highway (Mass Ave), the baby and I encountered Time as he followed along beside an older Asian man. This man caught my eye as I walked by because he too, clearly had noticed Time and abruptly but unalarmingly, stopped not too long after passing me and the baby by.

But what really kept my attention were the birds. They, these pigeons of the city, noticed the man’s approach and quickly behaved like their feral-er cousins and flocked, in rolling bumbling waves, towards the man until they were crowded opposite to him, separated by the chains of an open air lot.

The man, clearly practiced, produced a black pouch from his person, opened it deftly, and began methodically tossing measured handfuls of some sort of seeds to the bird crowd. The pigeons continued their rolling bumble over one another as they entropically scattered to maximize their collection rates.

All through this, I had slowed down myself, intrigued by this fellow Time companion, and smiled as I thought about how after this gentleman must have routinely stopped with Time to have these birds now recognize his approach in earnest.

If you ask me, I can generically say where I was (though I never know what road it was save for off Mass Ave, but I have no recollection of the hour or day. I have seen him once again since that first encounter. This second sighting, in which I paused my husband to witness as well, all I can recall are he man and his black pouch full of seeds. Other than that, Time has rubbed away any other specifics from my mind, because indeed those specifics don’t matter.


Hey, if what you read seemed dated or familiar, I’ve been combining all my other blogs’ content to this site. Please bear with me as I post older content.  🙂

all posts, community, nature/the environment, parentings/things about baby and kids

on parenting, environmentalism, and community

I read the book Achtung Baby by Sara Zaske, which was a great read all about the differences in parenting mentalities and practices of Germany (specifically Berlin) versus the U.S. It covered categories ranging from policies about children walking to and from school alone, to history courses offered at their respective schools and the differing practices when it comes to forming children’s senses of cultural and civic responsibility, to how to allow the children to establish confidence in themselves.

Zaske also addresses the importance of unstructured play on future development of children, and how to try to change/influences policies where you live.

I read this books, not to replace my own instincts in parenting my baby, but to understand how much of my parenting style is built from within a specific culture, and is not just “intuition”. The more I read, the more I see what culture I am blended within, and the more I can truly pick and choose what works best for me.

Of the “parenting” books, I have also read The Happiest Kids in the World by Rina Mae Acosta and Michele Hutchinson. It depicts two expats’ views on parenting, this time in the Netherlands. The expats were one British woman and one American woman talking about their insights into raising children (from infancy to eleven years of age) based on the fact that parenting in the Netherlands focuses on creating happy children. The whole society gets involved to make it a priority.

It’s a good read, and I recommend it for any parents who are worried that they are trying to push their children into checking off too many accomplishment boxes, without taking into account their children’s wants and preferences. Or it’s a fun read if you are just curious to understand how parenting is done in other places.

Previously, I also read Bringing Up Bébé by Pamela Druckerman, and French Twist by Catherine Crawford. So my distribution in countries has extended to Germany, France, and the Netherlands but I am working to expand that presently.

These books aren’t here to specifically instruct or convince readers on a certain way of how to parent per se. In fact, most of the authors are expats raising their kids in a new culture and then trying to blend that with their their own in attempt to find balance. However, they all do reflect on commonalities they see in whatever society they are part of at the time, the one that shapes their raising of children. They also do end up implanting little nuggets in the malleable pockets of my gray matter that make me question the status quo of my own culture. In particular, why does my culture (and many others) prioritize working above all?

How does removing playtime for young children and filling it with structured activities with parental supervision impact both the future generations of children as well as the parents currently doing the implementation? What can individuals do to try to mitigate the cascade of symptoms that lead to a cemented cultural practice enforced by litigation (the culture of suing everyone and everything for accidents)?

My mind is teeming with perceived implications for my own little one, and I’m wrought with fervor to carve out a way to achieve the most balanced route for her to grow as her own person. Now I wouldn’t say I worry about her future yet in the anxious melodramatic ways that bubbles into most of my thoughts, but I would say I’m genuinely curious about what happens next. How do I find like minded, community-based people who want to preserve the innocence of youth, but also encourage the growth of young independence in a society that looks to constant busyness as a sign of success? Is it possible within our societal framework? Also, what is happiness and how do we create a space for our children to discover it, and have it be lasting? More to come on this subject in later posts!

One last tie-in I have for today. I read a book called There’s No Such Thing As Bad Weather by Linda Åkeson McGurk, and it compared different aspects of parenting in Scandinavian countries versus the United States (and other English-speaking countries). Much of it compares how the way we raise our children in regards to their relationships with nature. According to McGurk, in Scandinavia they have more focus on outdoor education for young children so that when those children grow up, they continue to appreciate nature and are naturally (ha, pun) more inclined towards environmental protection.

But another large takeaway from the book was that your society has to support these kinds of initiatives. In some Scandinavian countries, people can cross over (or children can play on) other people’s private land/property (think huge backyards and fields) legally, so long as they don’t cause any damage.

The countries also work to instill independence and responsibility in their children by letting them take more age-appropriate risks (like 8 year olds walking to and from parks alone, or playing outside for hours after they’ve gradually learned the areas with their families). I also recently re-watched Lord of the Rings with my husband, and it always instills in me how important nature is to humans, and how much of humanity just sees it as something to conquer rather than a large part of our health and happiness. We forget that we need the good bacteria from the soil and plants, that the fresh air helps decrease infection and disease risks, that our food either comes from or is fed from nature, that we derive a sense of peace from greenery, and that we can find comfort with change by appreciating seasonal life cycles.

It feels like letting our children learn from and develop stronger appreciations from nature sets them up with a good baseline to be happier and healthier than we are. I’m excited to hear and see about all the different initiatives small communities in America enact to figure out the balance that works for each child and family.


Hey, if what you read seemed dated or familiar, I’ve been combining all my other blogs’ content to this site. Please bear with me as I post older content.  🙂