Even Waves Rest
or, how about a pep talk?
This past week in NYC felt like a dance between seasons. Mild one day, freezing the next. A glimpse of spring that was gone so soon I wondered if maybe I’d imagined it. This dance will likely continue for weeks to come.
In honor of seasons (of all kinds), we’re taking it back with an updated version of a pep talk I wrote myself three years ago — and still need to hear. If you’ve been reading for the long haul (thank you!), it may seem familiar. Either way, I hope you enjoy.
As you greet this day, plagued with thoughts and questions and doubts, I have three words for you:
Remember Lymantria Dispar.
L. dispar, also known as the spongy moth, is a fuzzy winged insect whose mission in life is to eat the leaves off some trees.
Some years, the damage is minimal. Other years, it leaves rampant destruction in its wake. True infestations — our word, as the moths would surely deem this their glory — occur but once per decade.
Because trees are our friends, the spongy moth is deeply unpopular, and many efforts are taken to thwart its progress. But year after year, it keeps on doing its thing — hatching, chilling in its tent-like cocoon, emerging, eating leaves, causing upset. It moves about the world being unapologetically itself.
There is a lot to be gleaned from this.
Now, I don’t mean to glorify destruction, disapprobation, or defoliation. What I’m saying is, much like the moth, our years — our seasons — are bound to differ. Some may be banner years. Most may not.
Whether we’re speaking of moths or men, creatures are not consistent. Our output vacillates. Our energy shifts. Our optimism waxes and wanes. No one can kick ass all the time. The sooner we get this, the better off we’ll be.
As Julia Cameron writes in Walking in This World,
“Often we feel there is so much we yearn to do and so little time to do it in. We could take a cue from music here: ‘Rest’ is a musical term for a pause between flurries of notes. Without that tiny pause, the torrent of notes can be overwhelming. Without a rest in our lives, the torrent of our lives can be the same.
Even God rested. Even waves rest. Even business titans close their office doors and play with the secret toys on their desks. Our language of creativity knows this. We talk about ‘the play of ideas,’ but we still overwork and underplay and wonder why we feel so drained.”
There is plenty about this life that is really fucking hard. Heartbreaking. Disappointing. Senseless.
But not everything needs to be.
Not all things worth doing require a struggle. The hardest workout is not necessarily the best for you. The impossible-to-reach goal is not necessarily the best use of our time and efforts. There is no medal given for bathing in misery, though our grief may be warranted.
To that end, “progress” and “struggle” are not synonymous. Remember that small changes are progress. Slow changes, too. Celebrate the wins where you can find them, even and especially when they are personal and invisible to others.
Life is built on a series of small, do-able actions. Someone will achieve their dream today. Someone else will take a shower. Victories, both. Do your part, in the most authentic way you can. As director Robert Bresson said, “Make visible what, without you, might never have been seen.”
We spend so much time trying to be good, to be likable, to be impressive, to be fair, to be any number of adjectives that apply to our current phase or field. But all anyone’s really after is something to relate to. Evidence that we’re not out there alone. People don’t read memoirs because the author had extraordinary experiences. (Though sometimes they did, and that’s great.) They read for connection with another human story, for the parts that ring beautiful and true. To glimpse the bits of personhood in which they recognize themselves.
The spongy moth does its best (worst) work in tandem, when the moment is right. People are no different.
As with Lymantria dispar, everything has a season. A season for germinating. A season for learning. A season for emerging, rested and ready. A season to finally take flight.
Whether this moment is peak cocoon, full-on feast, or some combination, it’s okay to stop for a moment and focus on being a creature. It’s okay to lean into this season, and its clear or hidden gifts.
No matter your beliefs, everything can be a prayer and anything can be sacred. A small daily ritual. A detail that matters. A song. A point of light.
Even this moment. Especially this moment.
PSST! Paid subscribers: Please be on the lookout for a bonus midweek letter, containing (among other things) a link to book 1:1 tarot readings and a survey for the date for our live book club chat. ❤️
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 always, this reading is not meant to be predictive, but rather a path to reflection. Read it, ponder it, journal about it, use it however you’d like. Take whatever may be helpful and leave the rest.
My first impression of Temperance was that it was beautiful. And boring.
On the surface, it’s not fiery or provocative or dramatic. It’s not bursting with optimism or anxiety or any obvious emotion. The energy behind this card is calm. Neutral. Moderate. Like…beige.
But this archetype, and this week’s message, contain a lot more nuance. (Just as the card I chose for this reading is about as vibrant as they come.) It’s hopeful and soothing and wise. It offers us a soft place to land, a comfortable spot to dwell while we shed some of what ails us and open our awareness to glimpse the beauty we may have been missing.
This week, Temperance asks: How do we dwell in the middle place? How do we walk between worlds — do and don’t, can and can’t, before and after? How can we consider something from multiple angles…and perhaps help others do the same?
The figure on this card pours water from one vessel to another, with one foot in water and the other on land. They are an expert at navigating the in-between, capable of holding multiple truths. They are both fluid and stable, but never fixed. As clear as the water they’re decanting.
Temperance helps us see the middle way, even in situations where we may believe there isn’t one. It gently guides us to soften rigid beliefs, relax ingrained habits, and open ourselves to the vastness of the world. Perhaps it will surprise us. Perhaps we’ll surprise ourselves.
If you’ve ever had the experience of saying no to something that sounded too good to be true or taking the less popular option because you knew it was better for you, that was Temperance in action. This card suggests there are more solutions than we ever thought possible — but sometimes in order to find them, we must practice trust and temper our approach.
Pursuing a fantasy is way jazzier than mucking our way through reality. It promises a quicker fix and a bigger pay-off than the true inner work of befriending ourselves. “Doing the work” may not elicit any gasps. It may not be visible to others. It may not come with promises of wealth or fame or a glittering prize. It may never, in fact, be “done,” at least as long as we live. No, the best it can offer may be something resembling self-knowledge, with a touch of inner peace. And that is nothing to scoff at.
From one direction, balance and moderation may sound as humdrum as it gets. But they bear the silver lining of harmony and equilibrium.
On the surface, this card may seem beige. But upon closer examination, it’s a lot more like gold.
In the days ahead, Temperance encourages us to consider all sides equally: Work and play. Yes and no. Dreaming and doing. Material and spiritual.
When the world appears to be drawn in harsh contrasts, strive to find a middle way. Before we may tread another, higher path — before we can even seek it — we must first believe it can be.
As always, thank you for reading. x
I had one of the most satisfying breakfast burritos of my life this morning. That’s what your writing reminds me of. The every day can be more nourishing than the glitz and that’s what makes it so rich. Or more simply but perfectly put: “On the surface, this card may seem beige. But upon closer examination, it’s a lot more like gold.”
I love the way you write.