Thank you for writing such a a beautiful piece. I do miss my analog mind. After my brother died last summer, I took up lap swimming to calm my mind. It feels like I'm in another world when I'm underwater. It's there I can concentrate on my breathing, process my grief and think more clearly.
What a stunning and substantive response. I miss swimming, and I can see how the repetitive motion would create calm. I used to use long distance running that way. Thanks for engaging here, and good thoughts for the long arc of your grief. xx
"What are the places which register to you as having Before Times energy?" I love this question, Megan. Here's what comes to mind: Being into a book (a hardcover or paperback), like really immersed in one; impromptu/random playtime w my kids; playing tennis... It's hard though. Wish I could trash my phone. xoxx
First, let me thank you for conducting such a beautiful interview with Julia Alvarez at SVAC. Her responses were so honest and moving, it was truly one of the most magical author talks I’ve ever attended. And yes, I miss my analog mind. One of the ways I try to recapture it is to listen to our local radio station (WEQX) when I drive (even though I have a list of podcasts and audiobooks to finish, and messages I could return with Siri!) We are lucky to live where we still have a real radio station with live DJ’s who pick the songs, local news, and local ads. Something about listening to real radio conjures the freedom I felt when I used to tape a small portable transistor radio to the front handlebars of my 10-speed and ride wherever I wanted to go as a young teen - back when all my wrist watch could do was tell time.
Thank you for your thought-provoking words and the Julie Alvarez
interview. I have no place for my phone in my fly-fishing vest. The place that always registers for me "before times energy" is being out on the river looking up at a cobalt sky, clouds as white as the river is clear, and snow-capped mountains, the medicine that removes all my thoughts of this crazy spinning planet. As I grow older, I cast less to rising fish; instead, I watch them take the natural insects on the surface and their positions under the surface. I sit on the bank or stand in the river, listening to the sounds of water and birdsong, watching deer drink from the river, and enjoying the scents of the river and forest.
Thank you. Another before-time energy led me to write letters to my granddaughter, who will turn one in June. When I was serving in the military, mail calls were something I looked forward to: to receive mail and take the time to write back, fold the letter, place it in an envelope, lick the stamp, and deposit it in the mailroom. The wait for a response took weeks, and every day, the anticipation of hoping to hear my name at a mail call compared to the lightning-fast text and emails today with a push of a button makes me think of the before time energy.
I workshopped my first letter to Hadley in August last year with a lovely poet, writer, and teacher, Maya Jewell Zeller, at the Elk River Writers workshop. I got hooked on the epistolary form and have sent Hadley nine letters to date, what I call Volume one. I will continue to write her letters. I like Amelia Morris's immersion/flow idea, and my letter writing to Hadley places me in that immersion zone.
I am still trying to shake my years on the Editorial Board of the NYT when I became addicted to the adrenaline of breaking (very bad) news and the imperative to immediately opine about it. We have such a constant stream of breaking bad news. Much of it concerns me deeply (climate change, American democracy teetering on the brink under a full-on assault, Gaza -- for starters). Like all addicts who try to kick their habit, I am trying to recover. Gardening and walking are my best analog times. I've taken to calling friends instead of texting them, even if I might interrupt them. I've sent some letters I wrote on paper recently. Left Facebook a decade ago and Twitter the day Musk moved in. But I spend too much time reading fellow writers' posts and excellent commentators on the horrors unfolding, like Heather Cox Richardson. Your piece inspires me to try to disconnect more. I am old enough to remember the analog world. Spent much of my life in it. Read the Jia Tolentino piece and referenced it in a recent Substack post because, yeah, she captured where many of us are at this point.
Thank you for writing such a a beautiful piece. I do miss my analog mind. After my brother died last summer, I took up lap swimming to calm my mind. It feels like I'm in another world when I'm underwater. It's there I can concentrate on my breathing, process my grief and think more clearly.
What a stunning and substantive response. I miss swimming, and I can see how the repetitive motion would create calm. I used to use long distance running that way. Thanks for engaging here, and good thoughts for the long arc of your grief. xx
"What are the places which register to you as having Before Times energy?" I love this question, Megan. Here's what comes to mind: Being into a book (a hardcover or paperback), like really immersed in one; impromptu/random playtime w my kids; playing tennis... It's hard though. Wish I could trash my phone. xoxx
I love the idea of immersion/flow. Wish I still played tennis - I'm going to try to bike more this summer.
First, let me thank you for conducting such a beautiful interview with Julia Alvarez at SVAC. Her responses were so honest and moving, it was truly one of the most magical author talks I’ve ever attended. And yes, I miss my analog mind. One of the ways I try to recapture it is to listen to our local radio station (WEQX) when I drive (even though I have a list of podcasts and audiobooks to finish, and messages I could return with Siri!) We are lucky to live where we still have a real radio station with live DJ’s who pick the songs, local news, and local ads. Something about listening to real radio conjures the freedom I felt when I used to tape a small portable transistor radio to the front handlebars of my 10-speed and ride wherever I wanted to go as a young teen - back when all my wrist watch could do was tell time.
“When all my wrist could do was tell time” is beautifully put. Thank you for this (and for attending the talk).
Thank you for your thought-provoking words and the Julie Alvarez
interview. I have no place for my phone in my fly-fishing vest. The place that always registers for me "before times energy" is being out on the river looking up at a cobalt sky, clouds as white as the river is clear, and snow-capped mountains, the medicine that removes all my thoughts of this crazy spinning planet. As I grow older, I cast less to rising fish; instead, I watch them take the natural insects on the surface and their positions under the surface. I sit on the bank or stand in the river, listening to the sounds of water and birdsong, watching deer drink from the river, and enjoying the scents of the river and forest.
gorgeous scene. truly lovely, and of the before times.
Thank you. Another before-time energy led me to write letters to my granddaughter, who will turn one in June. When I was serving in the military, mail calls were something I looked forward to: to receive mail and take the time to write back, fold the letter, place it in an envelope, lick the stamp, and deposit it in the mailroom. The wait for a response took weeks, and every day, the anticipation of hoping to hear my name at a mail call compared to the lightning-fast text and emails today with a push of a button makes me think of the before time energy.
I workshopped my first letter to Hadley in August last year with a lovely poet, writer, and teacher, Maya Jewell Zeller, at the Elk River Writers workshop. I got hooked on the epistolary form and have sent Hadley nine letters to date, what I call Volume one. I will continue to write her letters. I like Amelia Morris's immersion/flow idea, and my letter writing to Hadley places me in that immersion zone.
I am still trying to shake my years on the Editorial Board of the NYT when I became addicted to the adrenaline of breaking (very bad) news and the imperative to immediately opine about it. We have such a constant stream of breaking bad news. Much of it concerns me deeply (climate change, American democracy teetering on the brink under a full-on assault, Gaza -- for starters). Like all addicts who try to kick their habit, I am trying to recover. Gardening and walking are my best analog times. I've taken to calling friends instead of texting them, even if I might interrupt them. I've sent some letters I wrote on paper recently. Left Facebook a decade ago and Twitter the day Musk moved in. But I spend too much time reading fellow writers' posts and excellent commentators on the horrors unfolding, like Heather Cox Richardson. Your piece inspires me to try to disconnect more. I am old enough to remember the analog world. Spent much of my life in it. Read the Jia Tolentino piece and referenced it in a recent Substack post because, yeah, she captured where many of us are at this point.