Wait and Hope.

“There is neither happiness nor unhappiness in this world; there is only the comparison of one state with another. Only a man who has felt ultimate despair is capable of feeling ultimate bliss. It is necessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live… the sum of all human wisdom will be contained in these two words: wait and hope.”

— Alexandre Dumas

What the world needs: Lovers.

The plain fact is that the planet does not need more successful people. but it does desperately need more peacemakers, healers, restorers, storytellers and lovers of every kind. it needs people who live well in their places. it needs people of moral courage willing to join the fight to make the world habitable and humane. and these qualities have little to do with success as our culture has defined it.

— David Orr

Once the storm is over.

“And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”    

— Haruki Murakami, “kafka on the shore”

It’s getting dark earlier. Winter is coming.

Good enough

Outubro foi… anticlimático. Meio que um fracasso. Chuva, chuva e mais chuva, acompanhada de um vendaval que arrancou as folhas das árvores em tempo recorde, muito antes de eu ter tempo, inclinação e oportunidade de admirá-las. As lojas, geralmente cheias de caveiras e abóboras, estavam desprovidas de quinquilharias de halloween. Todos esperavam um Dia das Bruxas fraco e não estavam errados: um total de zero crianças bateu na minha porta em busca de guloseimas e estavam certos. Arriscar um vírus em troca de chocolate barato? Não vejo vantagem.

Comi todos os doces que comprei por precaução, assisti alguns filmes de terror, escutei minha (sempre maravilhosa) playlist de halloween, não fiz um jack’o’lantern, mal decorei a casa e fui para a cama em estado de sugar high, low spirit.

A boa notícia é que estamos vivos. E isso é bom o suficiente.

What the living do.

“Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there. And the Drano won’t work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up waiting for the plumber I still haven’t called. This is the everyday we spoke of.

It’s winter again: the sky’s a deep, headstrong blue, and the sunlight pours through the open living-room windows because the heat’s on too high in here and I can’t turn it off. For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street, the bag breaking, I’ve been thinking: This is what the living do.

And yesterday, hurrying along those wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve, I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it.

Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called that yearning.
What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss–we want more and more and then more of it.

But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass, say, the window of the corner video store, and I’m gripped by a cherishing so deep for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I’m speechless:

I am living. I remember you.”

– Marie Howe

The rain falls after the heatwave strikes.

Umidade alta, suor pegajoso na pele, nuvens cinza ardósia pavimentando o céu e logo as gotas grossas farão música batendo no telhado de vidro da varanda. E talvez trovões, para animar a sinfonia. Minha alma canta junto. As folhas já começam a adquirir tons acobreados. As castanheiras estão mudando. Parece que a vida finalmente está voltando aos trilhos. Nem perto do normal. Mas a volta de algumas cenas familiares, clima que me faz bem, poder fazer planos ou andar descalça na grama seca do quintal pegando do chão as frutas verdes que os esquilos jogam do carvalho… Parece normal. Soa normal. It’s good enough. I’ll take it.

Come on over, Autumn. Not a day too late.

But all my lovers turn to friends.

“What happens is that you tend to gather around you very different types of people. It’s impossible to please everyone all the time, and even more so when you have to meet such varied expectations. The opinions that one person agrees with are not the same ones the other person wants to hear; the problem is that they’re both sitting at your table. Next time you wonder why is it that you seem to attract so much hate, remember this.”

Maybe it tastes like him when you got tears in your lips.

It’s funny to remember the late 90s and that promise of “connection at a global level” with the internet. Everyone excited about the possibility of making friends all over the world and expanding their contacts to unimaginable levels. Now the world is literally at our fingertips and yes, it’s easier to get in touch with people from far away to whom we feel connected to, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen people feeling so alone.

Everyone has become dependent on the internet for so many things that if the connection doesn’t happen online then we don’t know how to make it happen in real life anymore. This is a skill I have never developed, so it doesn’t make that much difference to me but I can’t help thinking that living inside the big network ended up hampering many of the skills needed to survive outside it.

You have to be kind.

“You don’t have to get a job that makes others feel comfortable about what they perceive as your success. You don’t have to explain what you plan to do with your life. You don’t have to justify your education by demonstrating its financial rewards. You don’t have to maintain an impeccable credit score. Anyone who expects you to do any of those things has no sense of history or economics or science or the arts.You have to pay your electric bill. You have to be kind. You have to give it all you got. You have to find people who love you truly and love them back with the same truth. But that’s all.“

– Cheryl Strayed, Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar 

You talk like a man and taste like the sun.

Meu vizinho nos presenteou com dois pequenos tomateiros em troca de algo que fizemos por ele (não faço ideia do quê). Não tive coragem de dizer que não tenho absolutamente nenhuma ideia de como cuidar dessas coisas. Sou uma jardineira preguiçosa na melhor das hipóteses e não estou interessada em cultivar alimentos, mas well, vou tentar.

Porém olha minha roseira lilás. Perfeita.

A pasta carbonara dele ainda é a minha favorita, o deck deixou o jardim novamente utilizável, tive uma experiência medonha com a nova bebida de verão do Starbucks (devia ter ficado com o meu bom e velho frappuccino de strawberries and cream), mas esse pôr do sol salvou o dia.

E foi um bom dia indeed. O gato concorda.

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Tea and cake in the garden. Bringing out the old mismatched china (I have loads of it; too many trips to Lewes to stock up on cheap cute things) and a store bought victoria sponge because – hear me out – it’s kinda too hot to bake.

I used to love Pip Studio, but I hardly see it in shops anymore. These days I find the crockery a bit too busy, but their glassware is often beautiful. Unfortunately they’re not UK based and I’m afraid of ordering breakable goods that are going to travel far and unwilling to pay VAT. I’ll wait to see if anything nice pops up on Ebay.