Everything I've Ever Learned
and a partridge in a pear tree.
When I sat down to write a special, end-of-year letter, I felt torn about what to say. Should I continue the tradition from previous years, and compile a list of things I learned? Or take a look back, with a potpourri of favorite posts?
After some hemming, considerable hawing, and a dash of productive procrastination, I decided to do both.
Here is a list of things I’ve learned — observations, reminders, and gifts of experience — from 12 months of 2024, three years of writing this newsletter, and forty years of personhood.
1. There are many kinds of value. Time, space, personal freedom. Monetary worth is only one. You choose what holds the most weight.
2. They cannot all be hits. Most of the time, they won’t be.
3. Mundanity and profundity often arrive hand in hand.
4. 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.
5. Put the phone down and soak up the scenery. No matter what the world would have us believe, it is not natural to behold someone else’s croissant, in a pleasant slant of light, half a world away.
6. Check in on people. Even if they seem fine. Even if you don’t know what to say. Oftentimes, they aren’t looking for advice or solutions or some perfect, magic words. They’re just looking for someone to listen.
7. Perfection is a myth. As the saying goes, it’s the enemy of good, the enemy of done, the enemy of everything (except maybe Martha). Chasing it will hold you back. Aim for authentic.
8. Negativity does not pay more in rent. So why give it more space in your brain?
9. 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.
10. “I’m actually not looking for feedback.” Employ as often as needed.
11. Everything takes longer than you expect. It takes approximately 140 hours to establish a 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.
14. …and also, a potential teacher.
15. Sometimes, quitting is the right move. Other times, you might just need a vacation. As much as possible, try to see the difference.
16. Remember The New Yorker. You subscribed because you liked it. Then it taunted you with its tiny, endless words, so many 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.
17. Venture. Somewhere in this wide world, I imagine there hangs a guidance-counselor-type poster about how “adventure” can’t exist without “venture.” And it would be right. We place so much weight on outcomes, but there is value in simply trying. You never know what could come of it.
18. Trust that life unfolds in seasons. If you look closely, inside every flower is the winter that came before it.
29. Everyone is making it up as they go along. Even and especially the people who seem like they aren’t.
20. Thoreau had the right idea: Simplify, simplify. As relevant to writing as it is trips to Target.
21. Choices are good, because it means you have options. If you pick wrong, guess what? You can choose again.
22. 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.)
23. Thinly veiled insults (“Really?”/“That’s weird”/“…interesting”) are often compliments delivered by people who are at odds with themselves. Take them in stride.
24. Slow is still progress.
25. Fear is a yield, not a stop sign. It doesn’t always mean not to proceed. Sometimes it just means you care.
26. Everyone is people. Oprah is people. George Saunders is people. All evidence to the contrary, the cantankerous dude at the grocery store is people.
27. Some of the best gifts bear no resemblance to presents. And may not reveal themselves until well after the fact.
28. While we’re on the subject, Mary Oliver is always a good idea.
29. 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 every reality show ever created.
30. Your relationship status — like many kinds of status — is not a measure of your worth. Society has a way of making us feel like everyone is having a better time than we are. This is patently untrue. Dating does not equal fun, marriage does not equal bliss, living alone and with others both come with their share of pros and cons. Luck and timing and circumstance play a role. The idea that “successful” means “forever” is another belief that doesn’t reflect many people’s realities. Plenty of successful relationships yield much beauty — memories, lessons, children, growth — and come to their apt conclusion. Love, like success, comes in many forms.
31. Little things add up to big things, over time. Actions. Words. Knowledge. Legacies. A beach is made with grains of sand. (In my head, I hear “grains of sand” like Zoolander says, “center for ANTS.”) Life is made of moments. Take it one a time.
32. Life’s not a race, it’s a party. Arrive whenever you want.
33. Keep a running list (or calendar) of things to look forward to. A day trip, the week when the cherry blossoms bloom, a random day you get a box of doughnuts. The world will give you plenty to do, manage, and anticipate. Be proactive about creating joy.
34. Do not confuse subjectivity with worth. Opinions are not absolute. Even when they’re offered with unwavering confidence.
35. It’s not your job to save anyone. Unless you are an EMT. But even then, you can’t change people.
36. It takes a minute to find your footing. Especially on a new path.
37. Remember Lymantria Dispar. Everything has its season. There will be periods of inspiration and periods of rest. Fallow does not equal failure. You cannot kick ass all the time.
38. Comparison (and its cousin, envy) is a moving target. Nothing is static. Circumstances will change. There is always more behind the scenes. Keep your eyes on the prize — your own, real life.
39. I am small. A few years back, I developed a strange practice. Whenever I feel anxious or overwhelmed, I open up a photo book about galaxies, flip to a random page, and stare. Contemplating black holes, nebulae, and red giants, I can’t help but feel insignificant, in the best possible way. I am a small creature, with big feelings, in a vast universe. I guess what I’m trying to say is, it’s all relative. Perspective helps.
40. When you’re sad or stuck or scared to press publish, You Gotta Be by Des’ree is always a good idea. All I know, all I know, love will save the day.
41. Somewhere between "F*ck" and "Yay" lies the truth. The internet would have us believe that the world falls into one of two categories — f*ck and yay. Disaster and triumph. Birth and death. Honeymoons and breakups. Epic, shareable moments worthy of big reactions. But most of life happens in shades of grey. Into every day a little f*ck and yay must fall.
42. This whole human thing is temporary. I say this not in a carpe diem way, although it’s your day to approach however you wish. What I mean is that the ego stuff — fears, insecurities, doubt, shame — will eventually cease to exist. Pondering that can feel freeing, giving them less power in the moment.
43. Magic, like so many things, is what we make it.
44. You do you. Sometimes, while reading books or newsletters or watching biopics about inspiring people, it feels tempting to try to emulate them. Could I become more bold, brash, charming, charismatic, brave, outspoken, tolerant of risk? Could I train myself to be…different? But leaning into your strengths produces a better result — for everyone. Sure, it’s authentic, it’s sustainable, but it’s also something no one else can replicate.
45. Trolls mean you’re doing something interesting. Say, “thank you for your interest,” as you calmly move them to the trash bin.
46. If you’re feeling stuck, perhaps a rebrand is in order. It can be small — a new hobby, a new hairstyle, a new view.
47. Just start. The first step, or first sentence, is often the hardest. Trust that you can learn as you go, with momentum as your copilot.
48. “Gumption” is a fabulous word. We should probably use it more often.
49. Ditto for “complicated.” The longer I live, the more I realize this word is a gift to humanity. Humans are complicated, as are their desires, motives, feelings, and communication styles. I’ve spent too much life attempting to label situations, particularly those that feel “difficult,” “challenging,” or “upsetting,” or worrying after my role in them. Invariably, they are complicated. As am I. I breathe easier when I can accept this as part of human design.
50. Not everything will be for everyone. Not even chocolate. And that’s okay.
51. Numbers are not (always) our friends. A brief list of numbers that have gotten me down: likes, views, subscriber/follower counts, sales numbers, ratings, compensation, bank balances, credit scores — and do not get me started on performance graphs. The next time a number inspires feelings, remember that the hard-to-measure metrics — impact, meaning, connection — count for a lot.
52. “No” is a complete sentence. For those with a solid grasp of boundaries — including many toddlers — this may be second nature, but for me it was a revelation. “No” is a sufficient answer. You don’t have to apologize when you say it, or provide a seven paragraph explanation of why you cannot do something. Nor do you have to offer a consolation prize. You can just…say no.
53. The dictionary is full of suggestions. It’s pretty clear on spelling. But some words — “success,” “worth,” “enough” — you get to define for yourself.
54. You have the capacity to change. While there may be a ceiling for certain pursuits (alas, I’ve aged out of becoming an FBI agent), a change of heart keeps looser parameters. As George Eliot wrote, “It is never too late to be what you might have been.”
55. Small acts of kindness can mean everything.
56. Love is here and now. Love comes in many forms, where most aren’t heart shaped. It may be tangled or indirect or downright thorny. It may reveal itself in unexpected ways. But I am bolstered by the idea of a love that originates within us. A love that needn’t be sought or earned, that we can call upon at any moment. A love that is our birthright, our harbor, our center. A love that will never cease.
57. You are a person, not a pickle. Your value does not hinge on preservation. Use the eye cream or don’t. Do whatever moves you.
58. Don’t discount the middle. Beginnings are fun and fresh. Endings, at least when we reach the goal/credits/finish line, are inherently momentous. But the middle is kind of everything. It’s where we spend the bulk of our time, where we learn, grow, and innovate. It’s where the story unfolds. As a new year roars in with its fair share of questions and promises, it’s okay if you’re still finding the words to yesterday’s story. Ashes to ashes, the prayer goes, dust to dust. But in the middle — ah, the middle — you are every possibility. You are feeling and purpose and magic. You are the phoenix, learning to rise (no one ever said it was easy). And what a gift it is.
59. There is goodness in this world. Throughout a personally challenging year, I’ve been floored by the kindness of strangers, bolstered by the thoughtfulness of readers, and touched by so many voices sharing their magic. It can be hard to remember (and harder to trust it), but it’s more important than ever. There is goodness, there is grace, there is light.
60. The point may very well be joy. I recently spent time with a beloved friend, where we entertained big questions — Why do we exist? What are we here to learn? What are we meant to do? “I’m sure I’ll change my mind about this,” she said, “But I’m starting to think that the point might be joy.”
In the play Our Town, the character Emily realizes, after death, that life’s most ordinary moments are the ones imbued with meaning. “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it — every, every minute?”
Sometimes I’ll try to imagine that I was just deposited here from another planet, and I have no choice but to look upon our world with fresh eyes. How incredible would I find a tree? The swell of music? A chocolate chip cookie?
There have been days in the recent past (and more in the future, I’m sure) where joy doesn’t feel as accessible as doom. But I know that even and especially in the worst of times, it is our sacred duty to extract joy wherever we may find it. To hold it close to our hearts, share it with those in our orbit, and allow it to urge us forward.
61. Mary Oliver again: “Joy is not made to be a crumb.”
Wishing you a warm and wonderful holiday, wherever you are.
Thank you, as always, for reading. I’ll see you next year. x
Caroline, as David said, this post is a gift, and it will keep giving as I read it several times.
I loved what you said about No being a complete sentence. We often think we need to justify our No.
Some time ago, when others would press me, asking “why not?” to my No, I developed the reply, “it just doesn’t work for me.” The douche bags might follow up with another “why?” To which I enjoyed replying with, “I’m not sure. It just doesn’t.”
Happy holidays. I’m grateful the universe connected us.
I want to make stickers out of all of these and paste them on my computer!