You Are a Person, Not a Pickle

and other gifts of experience.

This week I’ll turn 39.

The targeted ads are jazzed. They swarm like vampires, heralding promises of firmness and fertility and infinite forms of “glow.” I am haunted by those filmy, comma-shaped masks that promise to make your eyes “get younger.” (If you’re anywhere near my demographic, you know the ones.) Everywhere I turn, I see preservation on the menu. But I have so much growing yet to do.

In honor of the occasion, here are 39 things I’ve collected over the years — observations, lessons, reminders, and other gifts of experience.

1. You are a person, not a pickle. Your identity does not hinge on preservation. Use the eye cream or don’t. Do whatever moves you.

2. Mundanity and profundity often arrive hand in hand.

3. Withhold judgment. It’s not just for them, it’s for you. Think of all the people, shows, stories, and experiences you’d miss out on if you never gave them a chance. Give the world an opportunity to surprise you.

4. Mary Oliver is always a good idea.

5. …even at 3 A.M.

6. The dictionary is full of recommendations. It’s pretty clear on spelling. But some words — “success,” “worth,” “value” — you get to define for yourself.

7. Negativity does not pay more in rent. So don’t give it more space in your brain.

8. Keep your eyes and heart open, in equal measure. Neither cynicism nor naiveté makes a capable captain. But together, they can cover a lot of ground.

9. “I’m actually not looking for feedback.” Employ as often as needed.

10. Remember The New Yorker. You subscribed because you liked it. Then it taunted you with its endless words, pages and pages demanding to be read. It reminded you of all the time you didn’t have to spend reading The New Yorker. Whenever you glimpsed the growing pile, you felt mild panic. Every time you recycled an unread issue, you felt like a wasteful failure. So, you cancelled your subscription but continued to wear the tote bag all over town. You didn’t unsubscribe because it was bad, but because of your own human feelings — The New Yorker kept right on going. The moral of the story: If your work doesn’t resonate with someone, that’s okay. Maybe they just wanted a tote bag.

11. Everything takes longer than you think it will. It takes approximately 140 hours to establish friendship; 300 hours to make it a close one. The path to success is circuitous and not without detours. But oftentimes, that only makes it sweeter.  

12. If you want something, but it doesn’t exist, make it. This goes for books, newsletters, nail polish shades, companies, recipes, products... Everything started somewhere.

13. Every stranger is a potential friend. And also a potential teacher.

14. Sometimes, quitting is the right move. Other times, you might just need a vacation. As much as possible, try to see the difference.

15. Do not confuse subjectivity with worth. Opinions are not absolute.

16. Trust that life unfolds in seasons. If you look closely, inside every flower is the winter that came before it.

17. Everyone is making it up as they go along. Even and especially the people who seem like they’re not.

18. Thoreau had the right idea: Simplify, simplify. As relevant to writing as it is trips to Target.

19. Choices are good, because it means you have options. If you pick wrong… guess what? You can choose again.

20. There is nothing wrong with your appearance. There may be something wrong with people who feel the need to comment on it, but that’s another story.

21. Thinly veiled insults (“Really??”/“That’s weird”/“…interesting”) are often compliments delivered by people who are at odds with themselves. Take them in stride.  

22. Fear is a yield, not a stop sign. It doesn’t always mean not to proceed. Sometimes it just means you care.

23. Everyone is people. Oprah is people. George Saunders is people. The cantankerous dude at the grocery store is people.

24. Humans are simpler than the instructions would have us believe. We’re all looking for the same things. To be seen. To be accepted. To connect. To matter. This is true for readers and writers and kids and strangers and the cast of Love Is Blind.

25. There are many kinds of value. Time, space, personal freedom. Monetary worth is just one of them. You choose what you give weight to.

26. Life’s not a race, it’s a party. Arrive whenever you want.

27. Keep a running list (or calendar) of things to look forward to. A day trip, the week when the cherry blossoms bloom, the random day you get a box of doughnuts. The world will give you plenty to do, manage, and anticipate. Be proactive about creating joy.

28. It’s not your job to save anyone. Unless you are an EMT. But even then, you can’t change people.

29. It takes a second to find your footing. Especially on a brand-new path.

30. Remember Lymantria Dispar. There will be periods of inspiration and periods of rest. You cannot kick ass all the time.

31. Comparison (and its cousin, envy) is a moving target. Circumstances will change. Keep your eyes on the prize — your own life.

32. Trolls mean you’re doing something interesting. Say, “thank you for your interest,” as you calmly move them to the trash bin.

33. Perhaps a rebrand is in order. A new hairstyle, a new hobby, a new route. Why should Pepsi have all the fun?

34. Just start. The first step, the first sentence is often the hardest. Begin. You can learn as you go, with momentum as your copilot.

35. “Gumption” is a fabulous word. We should probably use it more often.

36. Not everything will be for everyone. (Not even chocolate.) And that’s okay.

37. Perfection is a myth that will hold you back and make a lot of companies rich in the process. Aim for authentic.

38. There is no such thing as “supposed to.” You aren’t supposed to look or feel a certain way at 25 or 39 or 56 or 82. You aren’t supposed to have checked all the boxes on a to-do list written by the world at large.

39. You have the capacity to change. Unless you are a pickle, which thankfully, you’re not. As George Eliot wrote, “It is never too late to be what you might have been.”

Thank you, as always, for reading. x

Card of the Week

Here is this week’s card for the collective, as well as some thoughts to carry into the days ahead. As most modern readers will tell you, the tarot is not about fortunetelling, nor is it about neat, definitive answers. The cards are simply one path to reflection, a way of better knowing ourselves and others through universal themes. If this reading resonates with you, great! And if not, no worries. Take whatever may be helpful and leave the rest.

Featuring Tarot by Caro by Quiero Caro

I recently received a message from someone telling me they unsubscribed because of my tarot musings, which they cited as “a total waste of time and effort.” There was a time when this would have bothered me. I might’ve taken it to heart. I might’ve worried that they were right, and perhaps I should make a change.

But.

What I’ve learned, from living and especially from this Substack community, is that being true to yourself is a wonderful way to find “your people.” (It’s also a great way to filter out those who are not.) You won’t be for everyone. But you will be for someone, and there is such value in this.

The Ace of Cups is a card about listening to yourself. It carries a beautiful message of renewal, particularly where love, empathy, and compassion are concerned.

We can place too much stress on external circumstances to provide feedback, validation, or enjoyment. This card asks that we retreat into ourselves, letting our inner voice guide us to what brings fulfillment.

If you’ve been feeling hurt, frustrated, or misunderstood, the Ace of Cups offers hope of new beginnings. This is a hug in card form — a gentle urging that things are on the upswing and it’s time to keep the faith.

The cup represents your inner self — the five streams of water represent the senses, as well as the feelings, thoughts, ideas, and intuition that flow through you. In the days ahead, this card urges us to listen to our instinct. Stay true to you. Remain flexible to possible outcomes. Be open to support in many forms.

If we listen to the voice within, we may find permission to pursue what interests us, even if we’re intimidated or think we have no business doing so. We may find a safe harbor, a soft place to land.

We talk a lot about whether the glass is half full or half empty. The Ace of Cups finds this dichotomy to be insultingly limited. There is a wide chasm between optimism and pessimism, good and bad, favorable and unfavorable — one we may expect to traverse many times, depending on circumstances.

Is the cup empty or full? Technically, it is both. There is no right or wrong answer. There is only what resonates with you.