Balancing Act

I have this recurring dream where I am in a field, or the middle of a shallow pond, or perched atop mystifyingly warm soft snow, and I am spinning. I am the current me in my current body, as well as my once-teenage-dancer body, and also a body that is weightless and timeless and forever. I am balanced on the ball of my right foot as if a tiny droplet of water rests between my big toe and the earth below, my left leg is flamingoed to my knee, and I am spinning endlessly. In these dreams my body is my mind, my mind is a wisp, and the whole of me is the same as the land and everything is intrinsically connected. Most times I wake up in a panic.

Today I leave for a 10-day silent meditation retreat. I anticipate being in physical pain and mental contortions. Severe boredom or, more likely, an excruciating and enlightening emotional purge may ensue. It will be, almost certainly, uncomfortable. But what I am secretly the most afraid of is becoming well. 

It’s a cliché at this point - the tortured artist afraid of being too balanced, that a settled sobriety will smother wit and wonder, that releasing the past will result in empty hands and tepid ideas. Put to words, the notion sounds so stupid. But then I imagine a version of me void of the gossip or drama or trauma-bonding or embarrassingly thin boundaries, just sitting relaxed and softly smiling and pointing to a cloud overhead with nothing else to say and I think, “Oh my god surely that ‘me’ is not enough!”

A couple months ago a loved one took a photo of me in my garden. Just before the photo was taken, I remember being lost in thought about a determined cosmos standing tall in the face of many recent frosts. Making my way down the stalk, I moved my gaze over each delicate out-stretched arm before cutting it back. I don’t know if I did this for seconds or minutes or truly potentially an hour. I was focused, present, and at peace. As someone who hates being in pictures, I saw this photo and I thought, “Oh, no wonder he took this. I look entirely lovely.”

I know I won’t emerge from this retreat miraculously unshakable (sorry fam). But I am ready to build a foundation, to settle into ‘enough.’ I want to spend all morning inspecting each petal that I have grown and tended to, and I want to know that I am all the more interesting for it. I’m ready to spin like a top, digging into the ground, and I’m ready to relinquish a bit of myself that was never mine to begin with, out into the cosmos beyond. So here I go!

Movie: collective:unconscious

5 filmmakers were brought together to adapt each other’s dreams for the screen. The result is a surreal anthology showcasing 5 distinctive voices that create one captivating whole. I will admit, it’s a little student film-y. But dreams-come-to-life is universally intriguing, and the premise allows for nonsensical experimentation without too much focus on justification (if any). Just like interpreting one’s own dreams, the audience is left questioning which details reveal a hidden truth. My suspicion: they all do.

Innovative. Unnerving. Abstract.

Short: SHROOMS

This experimental short doc meditates on the soft interconnectedness of magic mushrooms. We open on Dan, a gentle Venezuelan man, foraging in the Lisbon forest for mushrooms. His wisdom blossoms and deepens as we watch him distribute the drug in a manner most mesmerizing, and his soothing VO nudges the prospect of medicinal healing but never pushes. Delicate choices in sound design, cinematography, and visual effects are a slow dance for the senses.

Sensorial. Pleasing. Hazy.

Art Books: Exercises et al.

Featured on Midweek previously, Kurt Johannessen is a master of whimsy, using lightness as his preferred vehicle to delve into the mind. This collection of miniature books relies on minimal design, allowing each exercise to shine vibrantly without distraction. Titled Exercises, Other Exercises, Other Other Exercises, Other Other Other Exercises, and Other Other Other Other Exercises, propositions include, “Follow a snail for a day,” “Kiss the wind,” & “Write one hundred stories and bury them in the forest.”

Playful. Sweet. Thoughtful.

Snack: Thai Comfort Soup

In 2019 I tripped so hard I transcended the male gaze and saw my perfect body. I had just spent a month in London where I knew no one and was working 12-hour days at a computer, followed by 10 days in Italy with my foodie mom and endless pasta. Needless to say, I was a little bit chubby. My final stop before heading home was a jaunt to Thailand where I was meeting up with a buddy and finally seeing a familiar face that wasn’t my mother’s. During the 10-hour flight I flipped through photos my mom sent just before take off. Our walking tour of Milan. *Fat* Our morning slosh through Venice streets. *Fat* A climb through Dolomite snow. *Fat* Every cherished event captured, I was pecked with *Fat* *FAT* *FAT!!*

The Chiang Mai airport was encircled by a network of buzzing highways, but I couldn’t bear to sit on my fat ass for one second longer. So I zipped and swerved across on foot, sweating from the sun and the fear. The next few days in the city were a scavenger hunt for flavors, stopping at every food cart and market and cafe we could find. But with each bite I took, no matter how savory or delightfully spicy, the little woodpecker of sabotage poked at my pleasure: *Fat* *Fat* *Fat* On our final night in Chiang Mai, when a cute Australian boy offered to buy me a drink, I was elated to have someone silence the pesky pecking. Instead, I woke up hungover from the feigned intimacy and the alcohol, neither of which were much help. 

When my friend and I arrived in Pai, we had one goal for our day: take magic mushrooms. We went to a bar purportedly serving mushroom shakes, where the bartender laughed at us when we conspiratorially asked for the shakes to be “magic.” But magic they were, and the drug kicked in relatively fast. Minutes into the introductory giggles, a 20-something white kid with dreads riding an electric unicycle invited us to the circus show happening at the bar in a few, so we exited immediately. 

For the following hour, or 3 hours, or maybe 6, my buddy and I oscillated between laugh fits and insights and made friends with a stray dog and marveled at rocks and climbed hundreds of stairs toward a golden Buddha at the top of a mountain. Just before the final set of stairs there was a super-sized bench overlooking the portion of mountain ascended, empty save for a small old man sweeping the dirt and striking a gong at the top of each hour. This bench, we decided, had been waiting for us. And so we sat. 

Without warning, a silence fell upon us. I looked out into the trees which earlier that day were my canopy, and at the same time I looked at my own canopy skin. *GONG* My mind melts into the bench, which grows and grows and grows until it is an alchemy of wind and earth and sun and water, *GONG* water I realize I am pouring through my lips. I am drinking. This is drinking. *GONG* My existence becomes bulbous, like a huge bubble, like I am Bubble Boy but my essence is the casing around my body *GONG* protecting it from potential predators and then all of a sudden *GONG*: it pops. I was lucid again. And I realized - I am so, incredibly, small. 

Arms wrapped around knees, I saw myself as a single grain of sand sitting in the center of this great big bench of a world. I gazed at my thighs, and my finger tips, and the slopes of my knees. There I was, so round and vital, and so tiny. My little body works. And thus, it is perfect.

Nourishing. Crisp. Lively.

• In a dutch oven (or whatever you’ve got) add a splash of olive oil and sauté a few sliced carrots and a large diced onion for about 5 minutes

• Add in minced ginger and garlic, plus a sliced hot pepper for another minute

• Add in a pounded and sliced stalk of lemongrass

• Add in a glob of red curry paste, 5 cups of veggie broth, get to a boil and then simmer for 20 minutes

• Stir in a cup of coconut milk, mushrooms, and a splash of fish sauce or tamari and cook for another 5

• Remove the lemongrass stalk and finish with fresh cilantro & a squeeze of lime

• To make a little heartier, add in shrimp, tofu, or literally any other veggies you’ve got on hand

To tending your garden,

<3 Julie