“Look around, look around!” The Hamilton lyrics of That Would Be Enough say. I am looking at my life.
What are the signs? What things I am supposed to notice that I’m usually too busy to pay mind to?
I feel like I’ve gotten pretty good at paying attention to smaller things around me every day. Butterflies and bumble bees. High and low tide. The moon and the way the wind moves the leaves in the trees. I try to plug into all five senses and let myself be absorbed in the moment.
Of course, most days I’m also sitting in Zoom calls, making errands lists, rushing to get work done before Parker gets home from school. It’s not like I’m suddenly super zen or transcending the daily BS. But I try to have moments.
I’m also trying to see the larger picture. What am I meant to be doing? I’m surrounded by good fortune: a family I adore; a home that is cozy and safe; a healthy body and mind; opportunity, access and privilege. These things are not lost on me.
As I get older, there is a sense of responsibility to find my purpose. To do more good in the world. But also, to be as fulfilled as possible.
I moved to Connecticut. Close to my origins, and closer to nature. This must certainly be part of the next chapter: actively loving, protecting, and being one with the natural world.
I’ve also been immersed in baby projects. A long-term ad project that includes making a film and a book. I’ve been interviewing parents about their struggles and triumphs to get pregnant. These conversations have been filled with so much beauty, heartbreak and raw honesty. A couple days, I just crashed on the couch, depleted by the emotion.
At the same time, I was reading Rachel Cusk’s A Life’s Work, in which this brilliant writer reflects on the reality of that transition from independent woman to primary caregiver. I’ve also been watching an old mentee and friend become a new mom, her Instagram pictures of those blissful moments when her newborn is passed out on her chest bringing back memories of that very sublime pocket of time of me and Parker on the couch in Brooklyn.
I do not have babies on my mind. But perhaps a children’s book or work that is important to the younger generation.
There are also a couple vacant commercial spaces in town. They could be perfect spots for a bakery. Madison desperately needs a good bakery. If only I could convince myself that a career that starts its days at 3am makes sense at this point in my life.
When I look back on my earlier years—the move to San Francisco, the stint in Paris, publishing a book, getting married and becoming a mom—I am aware of the degree to which I manifested these things. It’s so hard in the moment to trust that you’re doing it, or to make space for yourself to do it. But I will say I’m excited (if a little impatient) about the unknown. About where I am steering myself. It’s a joy in itself to look around, look around to ponder what is and what could be.