Pop astrology tells me that being a Taurus means I like my bed, my sleep, and my home. These are all very true.
When, in March 2020, they told me not to come back to the office for two weeks, I was thrilled. And then, at some point, it was extended to “indefinitely”.
I couldn’t believe my luck.
As months stretched into years, working from home started to feel like dessert after a long meal: I was too full to enjoy it, but I also couldn’t stop.
To solve the languishing feeling of domicile-diminishing-returns (DDR), I briefly worked out of a West Elm showroom masquerading as a “Soho Works” in Chelsea.
My calendar was so used to clicking-and-arriving like magic from one meeting to the next, I had forgotten what it was like to live in the physical realm. With limbs and at least three dimensions, I was bound once again by the constraints of the physical world: I had to commute, reserve telephone booths, and buffer for overages from my fellow DDRs.
Like those on the N.Y.C. to L.A. to N.Y.C. to L.A., Ad Infinitum loop, this low hum stress begat a return to my home office (RTMHO).
As cramped as it was in the Alphabets of the East Village, the proximity to my bed and lack of commute beat out anything a $500 monthly membership had on offer. That same year I turned 40, hiked around Peru with friends, took some time off work for my health, and became pregnant.
There are at least four really amazing/intense/miraculous stories in between the folds above. One day, I will write to you about these years like it’s a phone call with an old friend, out of the blue, that lasts for hours because you both are under-scheduled for one glorious moment.
That will not be today, though. I am still making sense and sense making of this time for some more time. I appreciate your understanding.
Anyway, today I wanted to share that exactly 3 years, 3 months, and 12 days into being Maria’s mom and 7-ish years into being Jesus’ partner, here’s what I wanted you to know:
I still love my bed. But I also love the life that I’ve lived out in the big, beautiful, cruel, kind, magical, hard, and redeeming world. I’ve moved ~15 times in my 44 years and each time, whether I wanted to or not, my beliefs were challenged, my priors were checked, and I was forever changed. What I can do and see and understand and connect to has been forever multiplied.
In the last 12 years since moving to New York City: I am grateful that I met my partner before he knew what I knew, and that we continued to grow in our own ways for 5 years before we even went on our first, real date. I love that we traveled and lived together for 3 years before we became parents.
And before that: I marvel knowing I commuted from Virginia into Washington D.C. and eventually lived at the border of Dupont Circle and Georgetown. I am inspired by my younger self, who once in the Nation’s capital, learned how to play the sports of Politics and Crisis Comms and News with some of the best in the game. And the Internet! I did so much on, in, around, with, from, to, through, and because of the Internet. And the people, the coworkers, the lifelong conspirators, the launches, the closings - I hold them all so dearly, daily.
As for post-high school: I can’t believe my luck to have arrived in Davis, California to meet lifelong friends Vanessa Shields and Sara in the dorm we shared by the cows (ah, Tercero F). And EED on the shuttle and Dr. Cowen near the feldspars. And A&D’s big yellow chair and the bicycles on campus, everywhere. I carry you each in my heart and in the practice of my practice. You each showed me that showing up unlocks Narnia upon Narnia - and holding wonder, faith, and science together is a necessary and (not an or).
And yet: As as much as I loved parts of UCD, I am inspired by my younger self that knew she wanted more out of her college experience (and by more, I actually wanted less - smaller classes, more focus). So I transferred the very next year. To a place that made me break out in hives and settle into my own gifts. I found Lorde and Foucault; Rubin and Michaels; Sanderson and MacAloon; Durkheim and Marx; the L and the Bourgeois Pig; Lake Shore Drive and my first cab rides.
Winding it all the way back to the 1980s and ‘90s: I am grateful to have grown up in the mountains of Lake Tahoe and the fields of the Willamette Valley. My parents are rugged, curious, and self-sufficient—and my sister and I do our best to live up to their best. I was SO sad I had to leave Tahoe (and Lindsay J., Emily, Kellea, et al.) the summer before 6th grade, but then again, I would have never been able to meet Annie, Jess, Steph, Tara, Erin, Tiff, Blair, LesP, Tonya, Matt W ^ 2, Robin, Rose, Amy, Ryan… and the coaches and the teachers that helped me sharpen and loosen; flare and focus, diverge and converge; and summon my gifts for teamwork and dreamwork.
And so, fair reader, I can’t help but ask:
What opportunities are you grateful to your younger self for making possible?
What surface area did you expand by leaving the shire?
And what awaits you over the next bend?
As the haze of August makes way for the last wave of Summer’s hand, on the last train outta town towards fall…
May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand.
w/love & gratitude to all the turtles everywhere,
Leslie
I'm grateful for you dropping into my life, looking for sketchnotes all of those years ago! I also remember how adamant you were to hire me for your projects.
Finally, it was pretty awesome to work with you in person in Houston and then meet in Alphabet City for dinner years ago. I still remember the compliment you gave me after I told you I had lunch, got a haircut, and shopped at a bodega before we met "Mike, you're like a real New Yorker!"
It's great to see you reflecting on your journey. Thanks!
Beautiful, just beautiful