this week’s Thought (singular)
breakfast is the most incredible thing in the world
a very warm welcome to all new readers. i love new readers so much that whenever i get an email about a new reader, i manifest that they have the most refreshing shower of their life. thank you for joining us. may you dissociate so much under the perfect water pressure that your appendages get pruned and your thoughts get washed away into a vague nothingness.
hi
a few months ago i had a fall (i’m fine now!) and in the terribly cynical frame of mind that i was in at the time, i started ruminating on how similar physical and emotional wounds are. as my bruise (satisfyingly peel-able) went through the motions of hurting and healing, i realised just how accurate my admittedly heavy-handed comparison was.
when you get a bruise, immediately all you can register is the focused pain. it’s a sharp, dedicated point of agony, making everything around it fade into irrelevance. the beginnings of emotional hurt are similar. a stabbing grief, blinders down that ward off every other feeling so all you can experience is the hurt itself.
slowly, the pain from the bruise becomes a throbbing constant. i start to see the skin of my right knee as a part of the rest of my body again. the hurt backs off to an always-on flame, light visible and light burning.
and then come the flare-ups. kneeled to tie my shoelaces and put too much force on delicate limbs. accidentally scrolled too far down my messages and came across the source of the hurt. the bruise twinges, the bruise screams, ‘i am still here. do not think i have left you yet.’ the flame suddenly and violently jumps, singeing and charring, jolting whatever peace you had made with its constant thrumming presence.
and then it begins to fade. slowly, in imperceptibly tiny ways, until one day it’s a scar, it’s been replaced by growth and happy memories. of course, it never disappears. it builds character, it gives clarity, it increases capability, it reminds you to wait for the train to fully stop before attempting to get off.
the comparison lends itself wonderfully to the territory of healing as well. what are good meals with good friends if not balms and ointments? what is a piece of hope and light at the end of a tunnel if not a bandage and a tablet and a mother’s home-remedy? and what is a good night of sleep if not a good night of sleep - a relief for all maladies, physical and emotional?
i’m not sure how to end this, except to say - i hope your wounds - physical, emotional - soon begin to fade, and they equip you with armour to withstand the inevitable bruises in the future.
ps: happy june!
A Picture!
Special Feature - It’s Our One-Year Anniversary :D
it is june 2023, which means it has been a year of this newsletter’s existence, almost to the day. out of sheer curiosity, i went back and perused some of the earliest editions of thodi, and i was shocked at the just how different the tone, the style, and the subject matter were. the depths of gloom in those first few issues are…quite deep.
the difference is palpable, the transformation drastic, and the gratitude to you. thank you for welcoming me every week to your inbox, for liking and sharing and commenting and reading. i’d like to think this labour of love has gone from a venting channel (me at an outlet that is in my control) to an offering (me to you).
whether you’re a silent reader or interact with these regularly, whether you subscribed yesterday or were here from the first issue, i appreciate your presence. i’m always open to feedback and suggestions, and i’ll try to stay away from uncomfortably earnest and embarrassing gratitude speeches in the future <3
English Recitation Competition
Until the Stars Collapse, Tonya Ingram
you owe it to yourself to quit being the apology. to hold your hand and sing your favorite song. to love another and see how far that will go. to love yourself and forget where you were headed in the first place. love is a funny story. it wakes up and builds a plot. it wakes up and shapes you into the kind of woman your mother studies. i am not per- fect in it. i am not even remotely articulate. but it is big, this love. it is airborne and triumphant. i am no easy show. i hurt like the climb of my lineage. i hurt on purpose. i hurt to not be hurt. no, none of this is an excuse. just a blueprint. a map. come find me when the day is bronze and the sorrow is full. i am building my poem in this here heart. all of it is a working title.
Today my heart is so goddamned fat with grief that I’ve begun hauling it in a wheelbarrow. No. It’s an anvil dragging from my neck as I swim through choppy waters swollen with the putrid corpses of hippos, which means lurking, somewhere below, is the hungry snout of a croc waiting to spin me into an oblivion worse than this run-on simile, which means only to say: I’m sad. And everyone knows what that means.
How to Do Absolutely Nothing, Barbara Kingsolver
Rent a house near the beach, or a cabin but: Do not take your walking shoes. Don’t take any clothes you’d wear anyplace anyone would see you. Don’t take your rechargeables. Take Scrabble if you have to, but not a dictionary and no pencils for keeping score. Don’t take a cookbook or anything to cook. A fishing pole, ok but not the line, hook, sinker, leave it all. Find out what’s left.
This is how it is with love. Once invited, it steps in gently, circles twice, and takes up as much space as you will give it.
The Good Side of the Internet
(subscribe to my standalone publication The Good Side of the Internet for consolidated and extra links at the end of each month!)
Vigilantes for views: The YouTube pranksters harassing suspected scam callers in India
Los Angeles-based Trilogy Media took “scambaiting” to a new level, but some claim they’re gaining viral fame at others’ expense.
If you set aside the incomparable cruelty and stupidity of human beings, surely our most persistent and irrational activity is to sleep. Why would we ever allow ourselves to drop off if sleeping was entirely optional? Sleep is such a dangerous place to go to from consciousness: who in their right mind would give up awareness, deprive themselves of control of their senses, volunteer for paralysis, and risk all the terrible things (and worse) that could happen to a person when they’re not looking?
Gwen Stefani: "I Said, 'My God, I'm Japanese'"
Fourteen years after the debut of her Harajuku Lovers fragrance collection, we asked Gwen Stefani about the praise, the backlash, and the lessons she’s brought into her most recent beauty venture. What she said stunned us.
The muscle that never stops, until the very end. Is your heart a hardworking pump or a mystic miracle?
“What I Said on My Private Island Was Taken Out of Context!” On Celebrity Apologies
Marjorie Ingall and Susan McCarthy on Why Bad Celebrity Apologies Are Enraging yet Often Fun
this week’s Song
Nirvana by SoundGuySam and Vāhaka
find all shared songs here.
thank you for reading, and see you next week <3
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happy anniversary💋