Breaking the rules 🙌
Issue #70
First, a bit of housekeeping: moving forward, I will send So Relatable every other Sunday. While I've loved the ritual of our weekly get-togethers here in your inbox, they are beginning to feel (at least to me) a little routine, more like we're checking off a box and less like we're sharing an experience. I've always believed in quality over quantity, and I hope writing fewer newsletters makes the ones I send that much better. Plus, if I find I can't possibly fit everything I want to share into two issues a month, I can always return to a weekly cadence. This is my newsletter, after all. I make the rules!
Speaking of rules (and awkward transitions), yesterday was the summer solstice, the beginning of summer and the longest day of the year. The thunderstorms and rain that have been plaguing Wilmington all week had paused, and at 7pm it was still bright and light. It had been a long, strange spring, and the arrival of summer felt like a transition worth celebrating. But my husband couldn't come home this weekend, and last-minute get-togethers are hard to come by in a pandemic. I was very close to doing nothing at all, following my usual routine, and letting the moment pass. And then I changed my mind.
I threw some things into a bag, grabbed a single beer from my fridge, and drove to the beach, which is literally ten minutes from my front door. By the time I sat on the sand, it was cool and a little breezy. The sun was just starting its journey toward the horizon. People were still splashing in the water and walking along the sand, some wearing masks, most keeping their six feet of distance. I read a book about spirituality without religion and paused to savor each revelation. I closed my eyes and sat cross-legged, listening to the waves and trying to empty my mind. The sun took its time setting, and I didn't rush it. As it grew darker, I saw lightning flicker in the distance, heard the rumble of thunder, so I packed my things and headed back home. It was a small experience, tiny in the grand scheme of things, but it felt big to me. A private celebration. A pause I needed.
Here's to a new beginning and another season, a beautiful sunset right before a storm, a single breath, as steady as the tide. 💛
Snack of the Week
I harkened back to the early days of the pandemic and made a loaf of 5-minute no-knead bread. I shared it with my friend, neighbor and quarantine pod-member Emma, who provided the champagne. (Hi, Emma!) My other friend Katie introduced this recipe to me, and it's pretty much the only bread I can make in any passable way. But you only need one good recipe, so I guess I should consider myself lucky! Plus you truly don't have to knead it at all. It's delicious magic.
Relatable Reads
The Slow Road to Sudden Change, LitHub. "A great public change is the ratification of innumerable small private changes; the bonfire is a pile of these small changes lit by some unforeseen event." 🔥
The Weirdest Story Ideas Come from Your Own Obsessions, Gizmodo. "As you begin to recognize the kind of ideas that are going to turn into the kind of stories that you want most to write, your subconscious gets even better at fine-tuning the kind of things it provides, as well as faster at giving you useful material." 🧐
4 Rules for Identifying Your Life’s Work, The Atlantic. "A career doesn't have to be a straight line." Well, that's a relief! 💸
A Tiny Challenge
I'm a planner, which is why my spontaneous solo beach trip was such a revelation. This week, shake up your routine, indulge your urges, try something new. Take a deep breath and break your own rules.
See you in two weeks! 💌
Many thanks to Liz L. and Megan W. for their generous support last week!
The little community that reads this newsletter is my favorite.
✨⭐️💫
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