this week’s Thought (singular)
must i do this every week? must i have a new groundbreaking, earth-shattering, changing-the-very-course-of-civilisation, scientific-breakthrough-esque thought every week? i’ve created a monster
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 get some clarity on whatever is obscure in their immediate future. thank you for joining us. may you take a deep breath and relax now that you know.
a very warm welcome to old readers as well. may good sense continue to prevail.
hi
i recently came across the phrase ‘shifting baselines’ in this piece from Orion Magazine a few weeks ago. in the context of climate change, Heidi Lasher writes -
SHIFTING BASELINES is the idea that each successive generation will accept as “normal” an increasingly degraded and disorganized ecology, until at some point in the future, no one will remember what a healthy ecology looks and feels like.
the entire essay is incredible, and will feature in the March ‘24 edition of
at the end of this month, but this phrase in particular has stayed with me.in general, shifting baselines is described as ‘…a type of change to how a system is measured, usually against previous reference points (baselines), which themselves may represent significant changes from an even earlier state of the system.’ it’s often used to reference rising environmental degradation, but you know me. i’m going to transmute the hell out of this. i’m going to metaphorise it so hard that you’ll forget why i even introduced it. (this is not to say that climate change and global warming and the traditional shifting baseline syndrome are not serious subjects that require discussion and action.)
i speak about growth here a lot. (just keep scrolling if you don’t believe me, i’ve included evidence.) i spend a lot of time thinking about growing pains and growing pleasures, lamenting and celebrating both in equal measure. i consider how we can measure growth, outside of chronological age or physical parameters. the question ‘how do you know if you’ve really grown?’ is one that i inevitably keep returning to. the quantification of it, and the confirmation of it.
over the last few years of realising things (at times, what feels like too many things) about myself and the world around me, i’ve looked at growth through several lenses.
the multitude of ways to grow, which is really just another way of saying that you’re a constantly mutating sum of ever-growing and ever-shrinking parts, and that none of these parts can be measured using the same units.
the shape of a place you’ve lived in for your entire life seeming to change, because you’re so ingrained in its fabric that any change to your own person has a direct impact on its structure.
your life, your years, being marked not by age, but by the homes you’ve accumulated - homes as places, people, feelings, things.
the idea that the more you grow, the less you know - in short, as a helpful reader has informed me, the Dunning-Kruger effect.
the ‘shifting baselines’ concept proposes another interesting angle to this ongoing growth quantification/confirmation. if i were to extract a single feature of growing up–let us pretend for a moment that this is possible–and compare the difference in my understanding of it and capacity for it over the years, i would have a pretty nifty tool to measure growth, i think.
what parameter is suitable for an experiment so abstract? the ability to identify when something is bad for me? the rate at which i get over something hurtful? the time, on average, that i spend avoiding difficult conversations? the amount of dread in my body? the strength of anxiety about things that are out of my control?
let me group all of the above into a single criterion–discomfort. how do i deal with discomfort–in whatever form–now, and how did i deal with it a few years ago?
when i say ‘in whatever form’, i truly do mean it. whether it’s an awkward situation, a conflict, simply not getting to do something you wanted to because of an unavoidable circumstance, loss & disappointment–anything that leaves you disgruntled, disconcerted, and/or just plain sad. anything that makes you feel like your bag of bones doesn’t fit your frame quite right.
and when i say ‘deal with’, i mean the source, process, and conclusion of the discomfort. for how long do i try to avoid the discomfort before realising that it’s unavoidable? how firmly do i hold onto it, refusing to let it slip from my grip? how quickly do i get over it? this new year’s, i had written this -
happy new year! may 2024 keep your shoulders smooth so weight can slide off you, and your knees strong so you can carry whatever must be carried.
how smooth do i keep my shoulders, how loosely do i wear my skin and its crawling, and how soon do i stop my knees from trembling and start to straighten them instead?
i know what you’re thinking–this is even more abstraction. once again, let’s imagine we can go deeper into this granularity, and pick up just a single element of this process of kicking off, feeling, and getting over discomfort. just the ‘feeling’ element of it.
i think i am slowly recognising the importance of sitting in discomfort, or ‘negative’ emotions of any kind. i have a draft titled sitting in uncertainty (which will remain covered with tarpaulin for now because it’s a bit of downer, if we’re being honest), where i mention the pressing desire to ‘escape’ from uncertainty the moment i so much as a catch a whiff of it. this then starts a vicious cycle of wanting to run away from myself, knowing that isn’t possible, and then promptly feeling helpless about it all. so now, i’m two things–uncertain and helpless.
recently, i’ve started to consider the idea of, instead of trying to escape the discomfort and ending up in this ouroboros…just going ahead and feeling the damn thing. of wearing this discomfort like a t-shirt that can be removed and not like a second skin that evokes so much dread at the mere thought of the struggle of shedding it.
all of this to say–i think there might be some merit to the idea of not trying to run away from yourself at every inconvenient turn. how far can you possibly go before you start to catch up, both the chaser and the chased exhausted? i think there is more to be said for accepting the discomfort, letting it sit heavy in the pit of your stomach, and have a general ‘ooh, shiny rock’ disposition towards it. i think there is more to be said for standing in place and letting the discomfort wash over you, without immediately flailing to stay afloat–it is the acceptance that you might struggle to breathe for a bit coexisting with the belief that you still won’t drown.
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A Picture!
English Recitation Competition
Chocolate Chip Pancakes, Caitlyn Seihl (read the full poem here)
I dream, now, of a normal life with you. A life where breakfast lasts until the sun goes down, until I have finished gazing at you from across the table, flour dried to your forehead like a kiss.
A Portable Paradise, Roger Robinson
And if I speak of Paradise, then I’m speaking of my grandmother who told me to carry it always on my person, concealed, so no one else would know but me. That way they can’t steal it, she’d say. And if life puts you under pressure, trace its ridges in your pocket, smell its piney scent on your handkerchief, turn its anthem under your breath. And if your stresses are sustained and daily, get yourself to an empty room – be it hotel, hostel or hovel – find a lamp and empty your paradise onto a desk: your white sands, green hills and fresh fish. Shine the lamp on it like the fresh hope of morning, and keep staring at it till you sleep.
To See It, Laura Foley
We need to separate to see the life we've made. We need to leave our house where someone waits for us, patiently, warm beneath the sheets. We need to don a sweater, a coat, mittens, wrap a scarf around our neck, stride down the road, a cold winter morning, and turn our head back, to see it—perched on the top of the hill, our life lit from inside.
The Good Side of the Internet
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this week’s Song
Ritha Dhamava by Bhoomee, Joel Johns, Titto P Thankachen
find all shared songs here.
thank you for reading, and see you next week <3