Issue 31: In Darkness and In Light
Plus: A pod on the morality of cleanliness + a kid's book rec!
Worth Considering: In Darkness and In Light
Two weeks ago, Kyle and I celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary. We had good intentions of making a whole thing about it since we’d hadn’t much celebrated our last several anniversaries due to having a newborn, then a year of the pandemic, then catering to yet another newborn. But planning got away from us and we marked the occasion instead with a late lunch at one of our favorite wine country spots, pedicures (his first ever, extra long massages included) and a beer at our neighborhood outdoor pub. We ate great food, laughed a lot, and even cozied up on the same side of the table together. I felt happy and grateful which I think is as good of a mark as any of a successful anniversary.
Seven years into my marriage—nearly 13 years together—and I’m still learning how to navigate long-term partnership. We’ve had seasons of deep connection and deep disconnect, seasons of growing apart and finding our way back together. We’ve grown both as a couple and as individuals, and I think we’re stronger today than maybe we’ve ever been. We’ve seen enough to know that we’re capable of trudging our way through anything, and wise enough to know that vows are not guarantees, that love is a choice and never a given. It’s not that we are expected to continually prove our love to one another, but it’s the recognition that our union requires care and attention. Marriage is easy to put on autopilot; it’s usually the first thing to suffer neglect when things get busy or tiring or emotionally exhausting. We quietly close the front door, whispering I’ll be back soon. We float about our days and when we re-enter the foyer everything is dark as we stumble our way through the halls to find the light again.
Now over a decade into our partnership and we’ve figured out how to come back home at dusk, before the sun sets and we’re left with our shadows on the walls. We don’t let grievances linger as long and we recover from hurt more quickly. We pay closer attention to each other’s spoken and unspoken needs. We do our best to put down our own burdens when the other is carrying a heavier load. We try to hear one another, even if we don’t always succeed. All of these things take the passing of time to learn, I think—they require vulnerability of self, mending of blind spots, the acceptance and even eventual appreciation of imperfect character traits.
Mostly, though, they require us both to trust that we are each other’s lightkeepers, that we will leave the proverbial nightlight on each evening, a beacon to guide the way when we find ourselves caught in the dark. Trust is never easily earned or given, and it requires faith that the other has our best interest at the center of their actions and reactions. It’s blindly putting down our weapons because you trust they have already laid theirs to rest. It’s apologizing for our role in the battle, and believing the other person’s apology as heartfelt. It’s knowing neither of us ever wanted to go to war in the first place.
There are, quite literally, infinite lessons to learn and re-learn over the course of our marriage, the next seven years and beyond. It will be pitch black at times. But there will also be light: a dim and distant glow, faint rays behind silvery clouds, bright sunshine-filled afternoons, and, if we’re very lucky, fireworks at dawn after our darkest nights.
Worth Clicking: “The Enduring Wisdom of ‘Goodnight Moon’” by Elisabeth Egan, The New York Times
Elisabeth Egan does a beautiful job of untangling the sort-of-strange obsession we all have with Goodnight Moon, and have for decades—while giving the reader a glimpse into her experience of the book as a mother herself. A heartwarming and nostalgic piece.
Worth Watching: Do Revenge, Netflix
This year’s take on the teen movie is just *chef’s kiss*—a film all its own with perfectly-executed nods to the iconic 90s/early 2000s teen flicks that came before it (Cruel Intentions, Clueless, Mean Girls, just to name a few). The soundtrack, the clothes, the casting: A++. As some Gen Z commenter noted, “it’s very aesthetic.” Which, honestly probably says it all, if I knew exactly what that meant. After watching, pop over here and here to pour through all of easter eggs from teen movies of yore.
Worth Listening: “Messiness Is Not A Moral Failing” - Ten Percent Happier podcast
KC Davis’s messaging—about how flawed (and damaging) conflating our worth with our cleanliness is—is so refreshing, and completely counter to the endless stream of pristine homes we’re fed on social media. She argues that often times we have barriers to “getting things done” (from mental health struggles to anxiety to having small kids) and that what we need to do instead is meet the moment by finding what works for us—which might mean unfolded laundry or a sink of half-washed dishes. Amen.
Worth Reading (Aloud): Whose Moon Is That? by Kim Krans (Amazon // Bookshop.org)
I judged this book by its cover at the library (a cat peering at the moon, sold) and we ended up loving it. Each spread features a different animal reasoning why the moon is surely theirs, ending with the moon’s take on the whole thing. The deep, gem-toned watercolor illustrations are stunning and it’s short—a true bedtime blessing some nights.
Worth Bopping: Kings of Convenience
I was reminded how much I love this band in one of Emma Lovewell’s recent cycling classes, and the timing was perfect with their low-fi autumn vibes. My favorite song of theirs is “Gold for the Price of Silver” but really you could just throw the whole cannon on shuffle and be pretty happy about it.
Worth Quoting: Danusha Laméris
Small Kindnesses
I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you”
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying.
And sometimes, when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other.
We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile
at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.
We have so little of each other, now. So far
from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange.
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these
fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here,
have my seat,” “Go ahead—you first,” “I like your hat.”
Worth Noting: This Week’s 10 Honorable Mentions
Might try dabbling in some wide-leg cords and revisiting flare jeans this fall…
So glad Brené is back!
I am 100% here for a butter board. (Wouldn’t turn down a schmear board or a cookie dough board, either.)
As someone who has a mostly empty stocking every Christmas, I’m obsessed with the idea of a stocking curator!
Pumpkin Cheesecake Baked Oatmeal is on the menu this week.
See also: these crispy parmesan roasted potatoes, yes please.
Kelle Hampton’s fall bucket list is so pretty, I’m actually tempted to complete a few items!
43 literary movies and TV shows to watch this fall.
Diane Keaton’s collages. The way she laughs at her own amusements is just the best.