seeking clarity

+ weekly recs

Paul Klee, Vogelkomoedie, 1918

We express who we are through what we say, how we act, how we dress, and who we love. I’ve been noticing lately that most people don’t know themselves well enough to express their true selves across any of those domains.

I used to say that I was afraid of my own ambivalence and indifference. Now I understand that ambivalence occurs when I can’t dig in deep enough to find what I actually care about. I need to keep digging, keep trying to express myself. On the other side there’s clarity.

*

I met B at the beginning of the pandemic. For a while, our relationship only existed online. Now he’s one of the people I’m closest to.

I often get frustrated at B because I think he’s too conservative. But yesterday I was thinking that I met him at a time of my life when I needed someone who saw the world that way. I manifested him, you could say. His orientation towards safety made our friendship possible. The ways in which our views diverge help me understand what I value.

In the beginning, I was compelled by how warm he was. We fell into a kind of immediate intimacy, which continues today. At times I find this intimacy extremely challenging. I am not, I suppose, in the habit of being close to people. I love distance. But I feel close to B. It’s because he’s disappointed me, surprised me, delighted me, listened to me, ignored me, and he’s still here.

In the beginning I thought, “This can only end badly.” But I’ve ameliorated my expectations.

*

When we fall in love with people, we fall in love with how they see the world. I would describe myself as curious, creative, optimistic, and emotionally engaged. That’s also what I look for in others.

When I clash with people, it’s also about how they see the world. The degree of idealism, the degree of pragmatism, the degree of agency. How loving a person should be, what it means to be loving, what it means to be ethical. What they read and what they don’t.

I don’t think someone has to see the world the exact same way I do. The way we each pay attention is as unique as a fingerprint. Variation is healthy, and even desirable. But in people I’m always looking for an orientation towards beauty. If you don’t care about beauty, the choices you make are too ugly.

*

S has nerve. I think this is what I love the most about him. He has this kind of perma-steadiness, a willingness to stay the course. Where does that come from and what does it mean?

Before him, I had never met anyone with that quality. Everyone else I’ve ever known has been obsessed with immediate reciprocation. They were vigilant, always trying to protect themselves. Which was hard for me, someone who’s obsessed with the idea that love shouldn’t be fickle.

Here’s what I believe: if you stop, it’s not real love. What are the implications of being serious about longevity?

*

You choose a thing, then you stick to it. Commitment creates beauty. But you have to choose well, don’t you? Isn’t the type of plant you grow contingent on what kind of seed you plant?

People have different definitions of “choosing well.” I’m learning that I can’t make anyone see anything they don’t want to see. Evangelism, like understanding, takes time.

I’ve been thinking that clothes are such a good metaphor for self-knowledge. I think of the way I dress as pared down but considered. I like baggy pants, men’s sweaters, oversized bomber jackets, simple blouses, cocoon cardigans, gold jewelry, slip dresses. There’s this interview with Margaret Howell where she said that early in her life she decided she just wanted to dress like an art student in a black turtleneck and blue jeans. That’s what she always wears. Simplicity as expressiveness.

It’s taken a lot of experimentation for me to discover what I really like. And I really notice it when other people wear their life like a suit that doesn’t fit them. I believe there’s a pattern to clothes, a pattern to spaces, a pattern to people. An organic rhythm that only certain people pick up on.

It’s not as subjective as you might think. There’s a lot of ways to have bad taste, and many variants on good taste, but all good taste is internally consistent. The more I see, the more I believe it. Some people know more, see more, pay better attention. Am I one of them? I’m trying.

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Weekly recommendations

1. Our Share of Night by Mariana Enriquez. I’m making everyone I know buy and read this. Dark, propulsive, exciting, beautifully written.

2. Central Places by Delia Cai. About a Chinese-American woman bringing her white fiance home to meet her parents.

3. This gorgeous essay about a breakup and Anne Carson’s The Glass Essay.

4. Jamie’s beautiful Substack piece about attention.

5. This series has changed how I feel about dreaming. And I think it’s literally affecting my dreams.