Two Truths
I often fall victim to the mindset of just waiting for that moment — which always seems just around the corner — where my life will finally be the calm, creative, orderly, and balanced oasis I’ve long imagined it could be.
It’s a place where I don’t have to deal with the IRS and HMRC and solicitors and exterminators and all of life’s myriad, unending bullshit. It’s a place where I manage to not regularly lose my cool when speaking to customer service representatives, my floor is clean, my mirrors don’t have fingerprints, I don’t have any acne, and I have time to write, swim, walk 10,000 steps, and do yoga every day with ease. Shockingly, even living through a global pandemic did not manage to disavow me of an obvious notion: No matter what I do, that day is never going to come.
In truth, I’m ashamed of how often I allow myself to bathe in the unfairness of that. How often I resist this immovable reality by trying to breathlessly out-run and out-organize what the universe has in store for me. I have, over the years, tried all kinds of ways to avoid the truth that my life — and indeed life itself — will never be perfect. At times, I’ve even made myself pretty unwell in the process. It’s the reason my closet and pantry are both neurotically organized and I write daily, weekly, and monthly to-do lists like my life depends on it. (Okay, my life actually does depend on that.)
Recently though, the universe handed me so many simultaneous fires to extinguish that I had no choice but to throw my hands up and say: Okay, I get the fucking point. As much as it pains me, I’ve given up trying to outrun it all. I am, however, trying to embrace two ideas as an alternative. At first they seem contradictory, but in fact they coexist quite snugly. The first: life is suffering and there’s no exemption. The second: future joy is coming.
As for the first truth, I’m fond of the “two arrows” framing from Buddhism. There are two arrows, and one is mandatory while the other optional. The first arrow is simply the suffering itself. Every human, no matter their privilege, will have to face a baseline level of existential suffering as a condition of being alive. (Buddhism is so much fun.) But the second arrow is a choice: It is your resistance to the first one.
When you are in two hour stand-still traffic on your first weekend away since Covid, you have to sit in the traffic jam (the first arrow), but you do not have to spend two hours feeling anxious and annoyed and upset and get in a fight with your partner about it (the second arrow). You can just accept it. Recently, every single time life serves me a proverbial traffic jam, I pick up the second arrow and prepare to dramatically stab it straight into my heart. Sometimes, though not all, I remember doing so is a choice. Then I put it down, take a breath, and try to soften around the first arrow. By simply accepting that I must endure some level of suffering, however mundane, I instantly feel better. Every single time.
The second idea — future joy is coming — comes from a print I recently bought from Margate-based artist Rebecca Strickson. When I first saw it in a shop window it felt like a gut punch. I was rushing around cursing all the bureaucratic and administrative fires I had to put out, and then there it was, staring me in the face, like the most obvious fact in the world: future joy is coming. When she dropped the print off at my house a few days later, Rebecca told me that the piece was her way of putting everyone in a good mood again post-pandemic. And while of course I have reveled in the supremely joyful highs of hanging out with (and hugging!) vaccinated friends after so many months, I took the phrase to mean prosaic, quotidian joy that life has to offer.
Joy is coming every day, all the time, in the smell of lavender you planted last week, plunging into the sea, iced coffee with oat milk on a hot day, turning your face to the sun after you finish calling the IRS for the millionth time because someone stole your social security number. It’s coming in the smell of your lover’s neck, eating the perfect deli turkey sandwich, and reading a beautiful sentence right before you open an email about how much more money you owe a lawyer.
These things are not meaningless frivolities only available to privileged people, they are the gulps of air before you plunge below the water again. You can’t overlook them, you need them to last you until the next breath. In fact, I think it is imperative you arrange your life so you have time to notice and enjoy them.
Life is suffering and there’s no exemption. Future joy is coming. I think the trick of life is not seeing these two truths in opposition, but rather as a divine tension that makes the whole ridiculous position of being a conscious human work out. No matter who you are, you cannot resist the suffering, but you also cannot ignore the joy. The only rational response is to feel compassion for yourself and others for the first truth, and revel as much as you can in the second.
Things I Wrote
One of my big pandemic realizations was that I simply want to work less. It felt taboo to admit at first, especially to myself. But I've learned there's a lot of people thinking this way. I wrote about some of them. [Enough]
I wrote about slow cooker friendships, and why they are the best kinds. [Forge]
Things I Read
What if the holy concept of “peer review” needs to be reexamined? [Elemental]
This Yashar Ali profile proves that the pursuit of fame (or proximity to fame) is a pathology highly correlated with total self destruction. [LA Magazine]
RIP millennial lifestyle subsidy. I’m not sad to see you go. [NYT]
“There are many social-media-savvy people who are choking on sanctimony and lacking in compassion, who can fluidly pontificate on Twitter about kindness but are unable to actually show kindness … People who claim to love literature—the messy stories of our humanity—but are also monomaniacally obsessed with whatever is the prevailing ideological orthodoxy.” Hell. Yes. [Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie]
“Sometime in this past year, I just stopped caring, and now I can’t quite remember how you trick yourself into starting again.” Same. [The Atlantic]
If you want to read something that feels a million miles away from reality, the news, the pandemic etc, read this piece about how an octopus thinks. You will not be able to stop thinking about it. [Orion]
Things I Listened To
One thing that really baffles me about humans is how everybody wants to be in a great romantic relationship but few people seem aware or even curious about the fact that it involves a tremendous amount of self knowledge and awareness of patterns going back to childhood on the part of both parties. I love how Mark Groves makes that knowledge more accessible. [Saturn Return podcast]
My intellectual crush Africa Brooke has not abated. I love (and am trying to embody) her idea of living life as if you’ve already been cancelled. It’s honestly great! [Cylinder Radio]
Russell Brand and Dax Shepherd in conversation is truly elevated listening. Sometimes I feel like ex-addicts are the smartest, most awake people we have access to learn from. [Armchair Expert pod]
An Announcement
I’ve written in past editions of this newsletter about my changing relationship to work, career, and shifting away from the all-consuming identity of being a journalist. After a lot of reflection and reconfiguration, I’m open to taking on freelance writing/editing work outside of the journalism space. In my decade plus as a writer, I’ve worked on ghostwriting projects, copywriting, editing—you name it. (Fun fact: most freelancers do all this stuff too, they’re weirdly just supposed to pretend that freelance journalism alone pays the bills. It definitely doesn’t.)
In addition to writing, I will also consult on projects, be it creative process or idea-shaping conversations or if you’re trying to get publicity for your project and want to know how journalists think—I can tell you that. If you want to chat, do get in touch rosiespinks@gmail.com, or hit reply to this newsletter.
Word Soup
If you see someone who has good light, thank them for it. It will help them keep the light on. —Jaiya John
As always, thank you for reading. If you enjoy this newsletter, it helps a surprising amount if you forward it to a friend or two, or share it on social media. The subscribe link is here.
Hadn't heard of Cylinder Radio. Listening now. Thanks!
Love it!