tenderness

in the middle, at the end

Sep 09, 2023

this week’s Thought (singular)

in addition to water, milk is really good as well. and also the chocolate powder thingies that you mix with milk.

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 remember to take a towel when they go for a shower. thank you for joining us. may you never again be dripping and annoyed as you shout to somebody, who is definitely in some other room and probably on a phone call, to bring a towel for you.

in an effort to do the things that have an element of ease, the things that i want to do and not just the things that i have to do, and to stop being so damn bitter all the time, i’ve taken the executive decision to show up in your inbox unannounced this saturday, despite making a big brouhaha about posting every two weeks. you’re welcome/i’m sorry. i had to. i have so much in my heart and if there’s nowhere for me to put all of it, it begins to feel tremendously heavy. onward!

this issue is inspired by two things i came across this past week. i’m going to attempt to link the two sources of inspiration as i write about them, but even if i end up not being able to, they are related.

the following video -
The Bear was easily one of my favourite shows of the last year. i think i inhaled both seasons in little over a day. the acting, the writing, the soundtrack - all of it was brilliant, but what stood out for me was the underlying current of compassion running through every episode. even when they’re shouting, they care. when they’re quiet, in the moments that are highlighted in the video above, there is so much tenderness between the characters. some of this tenderness is old and well-established, if being subtly modified with every interaction, like between carmy and richie. but some is fresh, newly formed, sometimes having teething trouble but still ever-present, like between sydney and carmy. the lovely give-and-take between marcus and luca. the calm smack-dab in the middle of the storm in the flashback episode between richie and tiffany. marcus gently applying lotion on his sick mother’s hands. all of these moments create the most gorgeous tapestry of love and kindness, never spoken about but still so loud. for such a high-intensity show, it feels poignant to include these scenes, to almost seamlessly dedicate time to sections that are so obviously clashing with the overall tone. there are more instances and a much more coherent explanation in the video, so be sure to check it out.
this specific paragraph in this edition of
Both Are True
-
the idea that becoming kinder is a natural consequence of attrition is incredible to me. the less weight you carry, the more things you shed – things like inhibition, regret, trauma, other dead weight – the kinder you become. the more open you become. there is no choice. when the things dragging you down get tossed over the side, with the lightness comes selflessness, naturally. there is simply more space for love.

remember what i said in the beginning of this issue - the two points are linked. orbiting each other? that tenderness is there in the middle, surrounded by all the angst, and that tenderness is there at the end, at the end of all the angst.

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English Recitation Competition

My Mom’s Been Asking for a Happy Poem All My Life, Jennifer Givhan

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A poem can be sentimental  
because poems are filled with life, but sometimes we need to look 
our moms in the eyes & apologize. Or say thank you. 
Our moms remind us what it felt like when we were safe 
in their arms, even if our moms weren’t safe, even  
if they were only holding it together for us, to give us a happiness 
they’d created from thin air. Motherhood is made of that
magic. I’m crying now. Mom, I promise, they’re happy tears.

Someday, Again, Jason Bayani

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I’m waiting for the words        to catch up to my heart    which is  
elliptical at the moment            there’s an apology 
even I am expecting to bore out of my throat
                                                                         but what for            what for 
I am continuing to write in a font        that displeasures me  
            everything shifts so rapidly
my body           the environment           my body            the environment

Writing Prompt, Michael Torres

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Would you, by now, meaning in outer space, and very much alone, want to replay the moments of your life you wished had gone differently?—Or have you gotten over it all already? What stage are we in? Is being stuck in space like dying and not getting to ghost-visit your own funeral? Which is the first moment you’d go back to in order to change it? By it I mean where the regret sprang from. Would you feel bad about the rippling? Is worry just a wider room? There is always a box in which regret will fit. After you tape it shut, describe the sound. Describe the blue.