This was originally sent as a newsletter for Of Pens & Paintbrushes. If you’d like to get this directly in your inbox, you can sign up here, at the Newsletter sign up page.
Hey you.
First off: There’s seven new folded note card designs in the shop, all from newer ink/Meditation Paintings. If you’ve ordered from me recently, you’ve probably gotten a blank card as a thank you in your order – these are the same quality cards. (Shipping can be a little expensive because the company that handles printing ships very fast, and factors that into their shipping & handling costs. The website calculator is live rates, meaning it calculates based on what their server tells my website they’re charging.) Also, the fine silver stacking bands are back.
And off we go.
It’s raining. I know this, not because I looked outside or checked the weather forecast, but because I can hear it on the metal roof of the house. The roof was a recent repair – probably only three or four years ago, right after Hurricane Irma hit – and before this roof, I’d never heard rain on a metal roof before. It is a very, very good sound. A mix of a crack and a pop and a tap. I remember when we had to have this roof put on – it was a bit of a fiasco finding someone, especially after a hurricane – and Steve would tell me about the benefits of a metal roof in Florida each time we were dealing with the repair: they last longer, handle the sun and heat better, survive hurricanes better, are easier to repair if something does happen, help reduce energy bills, oh, and yes, above all: the sound they make in the rain is very calming.
Steve was full of interesting bits of information and stories and skills like that, and it was one of the things I loved about spending time with him – with enough patience and open air time, you’d probably learn something new from him. I loved that about him, and he loved that I love learning from someone who is fascinated by a subject – it doesn’t even have to be directly useful to me. (It might end up being useful someday, but that’s not the reason why.)
This innate, somewhat indiscriminate, curiosity is the engine that drives me, and it being innate is probably why I have such a hard time with people who have no hobbies, no interests, no passions, no inner world. How can you not be in awe of the natural world, how can you not be amazed at the things we’ve made up, invented, and created as a species? HOW. Have you ever looked at the veins in a leaf and thought about what it means that they’re part of that leaf, the ways it mirrors your own veins, how those things evolved to be what they are? Do you ever stop and think about how someone invented every part of the device you’re reading this on? Just everyday people, inventing stuff because they needed it or wanted it. Then it hits you, the enormity of history, seen in retrospect, as if flying towards this moment like light through fiber optic cables. It’s downright breathtaking. Every single chaotic, accidental, intentional bit and all the ways the innumerable happenings of each bit interacted with other bits to land us right here, right now. The way you can start to trace it back most simply by starting with your day, and how this moment is how it is because of the one before… and so on. How it all seamlessly flows from one moment to the next with no effort of our own to make it happen. In other words: This too shall pass – not because bad things can’t last, but because our perception of time is nigh unstoppable. (It gets weird sometimes, but it doesn’t stop.) When things are hard, knowing that time is going to keep going even when I think I can’t is one of my greatest comforts.
This is the inner world I live in. This is the weird stuff I think. I thoroughly enjoy it. It’s half meditation, half prayer, and all magic. However, if I tell one more person about it and they crack a joke, I may end up in jail. I am telling you about the face of God manifest and you respond with jokes? Is that the best they’ve got out there nowadays? I know it’s hard to know what to say in response to that kind of trip, and the bizarre pressure to both have something to say at all times AND impress people does not help, but… have you thought about trying questions about what the person said instead? It’s not like I’m making you talk to me – and I probably only volunteered anything because you asked. With what little respect is due: if you can’t handle the heat, stay out of the kitchen.
I bring this up because I’ve been thinking hard about what I bring in all of my relationships (it is not what I want it to be yet), and that was brought into somewhat stark relief this week after I had several people make some big asks of me. At least, they felt big. You know what I realized after poking at why they felt like big asks? They were only big asks because the people who asked were not giving back, or even offering to try to give back, in measure to what they took – not even over time. There wasn’t even the curiosity to know what they COULD give, what I needed to continue to be what they needed from me. They wanted their wants and needs met, and assumed that that’d take care of mine, too.
And then it hit: I was tired of giving. I wasn’t interested in being selfless or self-sacrificing. And I didn’t have to.
I’ve had entirely too many conversations lately with friends (of all genders) about this phenomena. You know what they’ve all said? Those kinds of relationships aren’t worth it. They’d rather be what they need for themselves and not end up feeling drained, used, taken for granted, and assumptions made about what they need and want. (Not to mention the arguments and fights when they tell the Other what they do want or need and it’s taken as a personal attack or accusation of failure.) They are happier alone, with just good friends and family for support, enjoying their freedom with no guilt, no expectations, and no disappointment – well, beyond the standard. Why wait for someone to give or be or do for you what you can do for yourself with less effort? I’ve seen more and more articles about this too, how standards and expectations are changing, and how there are quite a few people having issues with this because it means they’re now being held to the same standards others were and THEY aren’t meeting them – or have to work to try to. Nah, hon, I’m sorry, but you don’t get sparks if you don’t bring something to start a fire with now.
You know what I find fascinating though? Those conversations about if needs are being met, what can I do better or differently? I have those with my close friends. We’ve yet to have a fight about them, or ghost each other, or take it personally. It is quite simply seen as “hey, I love you my friend, what can I do to make sure you feel that, if anything?” – a question borne from years of wishing someone would ask us what we needed, wanted, expected, hoped for.
Then we discovered that we could give it to ourselves.
Reclamation of power is one heady experience, let me tell you, and that shift makes waves – or hurricanes that tear your roof off, giving you a chance at a much nicer roof. One that sounds lovely when it rains. But first you have to let go of that old roof you’ve been making do with.
Wishing you sparks when you need the heat, and rain when you need the calm,
A. Markov
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This was originally sent as a newsletter for Of Pens & Paintbrushes. If you’d like to get this directly in your inbox, you can sign up here, at the Newsletter sign up page.