In which Our…
If my previous life was breadth, my now life is depth.
When friends call, I have less to share. Not because I’m doing less, but because my focus is more tailored.
I’m not flâning around Paris, happening upon big brass bands.
I’m not traipsing around Rome eating lasagna.
I’m not hand-over-handing chains to the top of Angels Landing.
But I am doing things I like to do:
- Selecting the location of each light switch in my new home.
- Optimizing the width and swing of each door.
- Completing a daily Peloton workout.
- Spending time with my partner, sister, brother-in-law, and nephew.
- Studying and playing poker.
It’s just…
The depth of these doesn’t lend itself to sharing.
(My partner disagrees. She thinks I just don’t have practice in sharing it. I agree with her, not with me.)
My poker friend and I talk poker.
But most others don’t have enough context to follow.
And my poker skill doesn’t even go that deep!
What did I accomplish recently?
I selected a cooktop, hood, two dishwashers, and oven.
Did I enjoy it?
Sure.
Not earth-shattering, but sure.
How much of this change is the lowered intensity of my more-flat-than-one-year-ago hormonal state?
How much is a decreased verbal fluency that seems to have come with the switch back to testosterone?
How much is being in the moment more, rather than reflecting less?
I’m not sure.
I don’t know.
One of my dearest friends, when he had kids, shifted his entire focus to them.
This is typical. I get it.
Now, sometimes he calls me with nothing to say.
He’ll hum or say “dum-dah-dum-dum…”
I think he enjoys being with me, even if that’s all it is right now.
Outside my window, the wind swirls snowflakes.
This particular alcove tends to send them upwards.
My partner enjoys watching. “Snowflakes don’t go up!”, she says.
Yet here
they do.
[Says Partner about these last two paragraphs:
I think this is touching and banal and worth sharing in a way you should find more about your day-to-day life.
Today you woke up to some of your favorite people at your front door.
You helped make a delicious dish you’d never made before that everyone raved about.
You wandered through the snow too far through the park because it was beautiful.
You scooted gleefully through Morningside Heights.
You snuggled and played NYT word games until you helped someone vent about their in-laws and recognized your role in soothing their worries.
All of these you could paint beautiful pictures of.
I used to do photography (*cough* also award-winning in a Ukiah competition *cough cough*) and one thing that inspired me about Ansel Adams’ work (other than the fact that they’re beautiful) is that he could see the beauty in the world and capture it to share. He didn’t photograph “interesting” things. They’re just random landscapes that tons of people could see, but he was able to recognize and capture that beauty in a stunning way.
]
Julian Wise 