patch notes 21
📍 writing from Boulder, CO
In the mornings I like to get outside as soon as possible, to walk the 17 minutes to the second-nearest cafe for a coffee and a croissant. Some mornings I take the long way home and sit on the bench a while. I’ve been biking more, relishing in the freedom of mobility provided by my own two feet (and sometimes a battery). I’ve even been getting better at stretching daily to preserve that mobility.
Almost 100 days since arriving from Sacramento to a place still in its winter slumber – wondering if I’d made the right choice. Today I write from a shaded picnic table in a park, looking out at the rich shades of green against the clear blue sky. Day by day, the city transformed into a place full of vibrant life and energy, hills thawing and reviving as they have so many times before.
Each week expands my perspective of the past two years, our relationship, and my transition to a new, single life. The smallest of moments still trigger cascades of memories; but most of these now take the form of a grateful reminiscing and celebration of what we had together. I stumbled across this advice shortly after our breakup and have kept it in mind since; growing to trust the truth in it:
Think about what you loved about them, what they brought to your life that’s no longer available.
Now start giving those things to yourself, in your own way. (Not in the same way as they did it, you can’t and it will feel like torture.)
Still take a while but you grow
And so I practice. Trying to give these things to myself each day; listening to, exploring with, and celebrating the wholeness that exists within myself. A wholeness that was there before my first relationship so many years ago and will be there until I take my last breath. We must be our own best friend first and foremost if we hope to become someone else’s best friend.
in and out of buidl mode #
This newfound stability has freed me to dive into building and exploring technology. I can disappear into code for days at a time; my only anchors to reality being the need for sunlight, bodily functions, and food. When I get too deep into the abstractions, when I start getting cranky at unhelpful errors – I hike or bike up a big hill and lay there for a while in my hammock.
Sometimes I listen to music. Sometimes I just stare at the trees. It always brings me back down to reality and into my body. And then I head back down towards the town. I take a shower, eat dinner, watch a couple episodes of a show – and soon I’m ready to dive back into the digital world.
writing words and posting posts #
Can you make an agreement with yourself to carve out a sacred place? To allow yourself, in this space, to practice? With whatever grace you can muster. To show up in earnest. As a novice. To agree with yourself to ask, with humility, for help in this important work of letting be?
One such place is my journaling practice. A space to listen to myself. Trusting, inviting, and challenging myself to explore the silly, fantastical, wild, and dark parts of myself. A promise to welcome them in; without judgement but with a curiosity to converse. In this place I might come to better terms with who I was, who I am, where I find myself, where I want to go. A safe place; a sacred space.
It’s in my journal where I uncover the seeds of things to share with others. But to flourish in this world, these seeds must first be nurtured: send them out too soon and they might die. Hold them too long and they won’t learn to fly. In this networked world, how do I navigate between the intimate digital spaces I inhibit and the infinite internet without compromising what I value and the sacred nature of this space?
How much of the world do I let into my journal?
How much of my journal do I share with the world?
recent thoughts & writings #
there is so much I want to do. so much I want to build. to learn. to create. to see and experience and feel and record and share.
the existence of libraries as an institution – how cool to have a space that everyone is welcome to, money-spending is not a requirement, and it’s air conditioned. pretty rad
wanting this won’t make it come to pass. remembering the need to remain to open to whatever happens, not to try and force anything, and just go with the flow. be like the trees in the wind.
how to hold space for oneself, in my mind – probably impacts how I experience having space held for me and how I can do it for others
There is a feeling I have when I grab my water and lock my self in my room for a long evening alone. A feeling of safety, creativity, and freedom. From distractions, obligations, spoken language, and needing to make my thinking clear to other humans. A space for me, with me.
For the past 18 months I’ve been building as part of a squad we call buzzard. I first wrote a reflection on the experience six months ago. Another half year has uncovered new practices, questions, and potential directions of exploration.
It didn’t take much to convince me. What sweetened the deal was Cody’s offer to crash at a friend’s place in East Village - spitting distance from my old neighborhood Lower East Side. I’d also get to see more friends who I didn’t get to see last time, and maybe even meet some new ones. I booked the tickets and set off.