On attention, birdsong, & new work
"What you pay attention to will define, for you, what reality is." Oliver Burkeman
Happy spring, friends! What a delight to finally say that! I have new work and reflections to share on the other side of a season of deep wintering. Booking won’t actually open until Monday at 9:30am PST so there’s no rush, just a preview below so you can think about it. I also want to mention that my friend Delia and I are hosting a community mending night at the studio on Tuesday, 4/4, 6:00-8:00 ~ you can sign up here!
The most peaceful listen to start:
If you’d like to delve in for a little while, here’s a little nudge to pause first and feel into your body if that’s accessible. Could you sit more comfortably? Would a few shoulder circles feel nice, or a wrist stretch? Is this a good chance to drink some water or make a cup of tea? I’ve got my steaming hibiscus tulsi and a little less tension in my neck ~ I’m ready when you are.
I’ve been thinking a lot about attention lately. Someone recently told me that the average time people spend on a video on social media is 9 seconds. That number really struck me. Even on things I enjoy I’ve caught myself tapping forward. My friend’s peaceful bird watching video is nice, but it’s not just impatience that makes me move on. It’s some shifty-eyed, hackles-raised animal part of my brain that says if I linger at this oasis too long the lion will get me. Admittedly I haven’t thought deeply about what the lion might be until recently. But I’m starting to realize the metaphorical lion always driving my attention forward, never staying anywhere long, is fear. Fear of time slipping away. Fear of being with myself. And that fear shows up all over my life.
I’ve done a lot of things, knowingly and unknowingly, to try to drown out fear. Talking about my feelings with other people in circles. Playing audiobooks or podcasts at all times. Looking at social media way more than I’d like. Making rigid schedules that never seem to work. What I didn’t realize is that those things were also drowning out my joy, my self trust, and my creativity. I started to habitually look for everything outside of myself, because I was afraid if I really sat with myself all I’d find was anxiety with the volume unbearably loud.
I recently started some small practices without even quite realizing how much they’d make me be with myself. I’m just over one month into morning pages ~ three pages of stream of consciousness writing every single morning. I was surprised at how revelatory it is to write without any sort of filter for anyone else, to show up for myself every day and see what’s emerging and staying and fading. This practice helps me sit with myself in a really low stakes setting. It can be uncomfortable, but I don’t have to accomplish anything. I just have to show up.
Doing morning pages made it easier to start hearing my inner voice, beyond just the anxiety. The inner voice said no social media until after 8am. Actually, no social media until after my art is done for the day. Actually actually, no social media at all for awhile. I just came back from a week of no social media, no reading, no tv. It was spicy, y’all. But also nourishing.
I’ve been going on a lot of silent walks, which is not something I ever did before. Another way to be with myself. I’ve always taken pride in how much beauty I find in my neighborhood, but I notice even more when I don’t have earbuds. I found a monarch dedicated milkweed seed station I’d never noticed before. I felt way more connected to my dog, Bramble. I walked more slowly and really felt the breeze. I heard a teacher ask a group of kids if they wanted to go to a faerie garden (hello, me too?), a drummer, a lovely singer, a person doing a really impressive birdcall, another person cawing back at crows less impressively, and of course, a whole lot of birds.
Lately I’ve started gravitating toward songs with birds. As I was doing morning pages I realized I just wanted to listen to birdsong. One morning I forgot to turn on my birds and noticed the light had changed enough that now when I was doing pages I could actually hear some birds outside. I remembered reading a theory that humans are calmed by birds because they tell us that a place probably has food, water, and no predators. My recorded birds, my neighborhood birds all sing the song of safety: no lions here, it’s okay, linger at this oasis for awhile. Do you like being here? Is there somewhere you would rather be, and if so can you make your way there gently and intentionally, instead of fleeing unseen threats on your trail?
The fear’s still there. But I’m finding other things sitting with myself too. A well of creativity I haven’t found the depths of. A stubborn hopefulness I’m going to stop calling silly. Real wonder at the world, at the beauty that exists in nature, at the kindness in humans. At the same time, frustration at why people can’t treat each other better. Protectiveness of my art, wanting to keep things close and safe. But also budding confidence that I contain things worth sharing. We all do. And those things are worth more than a nine second attention span, aren’t they?
I’m not saying I’m going to watch every video until the end, in fact I plan to be online a lot less. But I want to continue practicing presence, instead of just running from fear. If I slow down and really listen, there’s always more to learn, from myself, from other people, from the world singing around me.
Booking for these non-repeatable softies will open for subscribers on Monday, 3/27 at 9:30am PST ~ you’ll get the link in another brief newsletter because I’m trying to make it possible to book without social media! I’ve been experimenting with softer, more naturalistic work for awhile ~ and I’m ready to share it! Here’s a tattoo iteration on myself so you can see how it will translate. My skin is really reactive, so it’ll look softer when it settles! I’m offering this design one more time if you’d like to be tat twins. :)
I’ll be booking these at a reduced cost for the first round, and of course touch-ups will be free within six months if we need to address anything! I’m still planning to do more dotwork too, but I decided to split that into a different newsletter to keep things organized! You can expect a sheet of li’l dotwork sweeties very soon! If you have a dotwork idea in mind now is also a great time to submit a custom request before I start filling things up with predrawn pieces!
~ 4000 Weeks: Time Management for Mortals had such a big impact on me. It’s both very practical and a deep existential exploration of what causes us to struggle with our time (hint: fear of uncertainty and mortality). Also he quotes Mary Oliver, so you know it’s good!
~ The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea by Axie Oh was so lovely! It’s a retelling of a Korean folktale that’s so magical and sweet it made me cry. Highly recommend, especially if you like Spirited Away!
~ This birdsong playlist is bound to be in my Spotify top tracks this year haha.
~ Hibiscus tulsi tea is my new drink of spring, so fruity and soothing.
~ My friend Natalie has a big surgery coming up. If you’d like to support a chronically ill maker you can donate to her (makloufdesigns on Venmo) or buy something from her shop!
Thanks for devoting some attention here,
This email was the first thing I read/looked at on my phone this morning, after waking up and feeding my pets and making myself a coffee. Your timing was perfect, your words were heard, and I too feel inspired to sit with myself a little longer and take note. I too enjoy taking walks without earbuds in. Years ago I used to walk for my health with a podcast in my ear, at a pace that felt “productive”. At some point, my fear and anxiety of getting caught off guard by a stranger while walking forced me to take my ear buds out so I could “hear them coming”. And what I realized after I settled in to my walks and found that no one was out to get me, was that my pace slowed and I heard everything and saw everything. It was very liberating, but it’s funny that I didn’t notice how impactful it really was until reading this newsletter. It’s been years since I’ve worn earbuds on a walk. Now when I walk I don’t stress about what podcast will keep my interest or whether my music will have the right beat. I just exist and take everything in around me in the most natural and comfortable way.
So thank you for unintentionally helping me realize that this morning. And thank you for your thoughtful approach to your newsletter. There is so much information at our fingers tips and reading your thoughtfully written newsletter felt nice in a way that social-media scrolling can’t touch. I will look forward to hearing more from you and seeing more of your art. And maybe one of them will call my name and ask for a permanent residence on my skin.
With gratitude,
Sarah