I’ve seen the book covers, the IGTVs, the keynotes – women in eyelash extensions imploring you to stop playing small. Commandment after commandment, we’re offered the vaguest of measurements to stack ourselves against. Go all in! Show up big! Shine brighter! Climb higher. Run faster. Dream bigger. You were made for more! Brick by brick,
I am being interviewed, and the voice on the phone asks me why I’m not very social on social. It takes me a second to decode his words, or even his intent. Social on social? What? Is it not part of your strategy? he asks. You know, do you not see it as an essential
1. During courtship, a male Adelie penguin presents his chosen female with a pebble as a gift. If the female accepts, they mate for life.
Two years ago, on a brightly lit stage in West L.A., Maria Shriver asks me this: But how? How do you do it? What would you tell someone who wants to slow their life, but can’t? Who feels totally buried already? I pause, blink at the lights. I say something about how there’s no easy
Image Credits: Iron & Lace for Camp Climb Summer camp for the young me was this: wet socks drying on hickory branches. Cold Dr. Pepper from the canteen. Legs dangling from the top balcony of Amity Hall, lost in a continual conversation with stars and the dirt beneath.
First, something: I’m wary of assigning sanctimonious yarns to everyday behaviors. In truth, what makes for a good habit today doesn’t always carry the years. Related – For months, in college, I subsisted solely on free dinner rolls from the restaurant I waitressed at in a valiant attempt to save enough money for my first
Well, this one simply didn’t turn out is what I’ll say first.
If your home is carried by the spine of a book, if you find yourself up past midnight to devour just one last chapter, if you’ve ever left the party early because there’s a riveting tale tented on your nightstand, you’ll know what it means to encounter joy in 300 pages or less.