Modern Miscellany ~ Vol 2 ~ A Gorgeous Melange
July ~ Savoring the Goodness
Hi Friend,
It’s July 8th and almost noon. It is ninety degrees and the heat is rising, will rise, will hit one hundred today, yet the garbage trucks have rumbled by and our early Monday work meeting carried on as usual with us slightly sweatier than normal. I’ve been reading a book by Stephanie Foo called “What my Bones Know”; a book recommended to me by my friend Meg. When I texted her to tell her I was enjoying the book, she responded that she was on a plane about to take off for Jordan. Jordan, wow. My mind fills up with undulating desert, colorful souks, and spicy lamb dishes. The adventure of a lifetime. A month of seeing herself in new contexts new places. I love that feeling. The feeling of being somewhere strange, somewhere foreign, somewhere new. The excitement leaps inside me like a golden retriever puppy. Go! Let’s Go! It pleads.
Matthew and I do have more plans to travel abroad for next year. Costa Rica again and then, likely, a trip to Europe after my stepson graduates from high school. French & Italian Coastlines. We think. We think and talk a lot about travel. It takes up a lot of psychic energy and space. We don’t think and talk a lot about relaxing and doing nothing. Doing nothing is such a luxury. This morning I took some time to water my garden and sit by my herbs ~ regarding them. I then examined them and sampled the flowering head of the oregano (delicate and not as pungent as the leaf), the bud of a basil (very spicy), the leaf of a lemon balm (soothing and bitter), and the thyme (bright and not too pungent). Then I sat on the walkway with my cat and did nothing but respond to his begging to be petted for a few more minutes. Even petting the cat felt like a chore. I just wanted to sit and be. I’m not sure when I started to desire it. The doing nothing. But even though I want to do nothing it is still difficult to allow myself the luxury of nothing. Just watching the plants. Just looking at the bees as they land and fly and land and dance around each other from one oregano pompom to another. Aerial acrobats on fragrant floral high wires.
Below are a few things I’m doing lately, like getting back to journaling—not trying to “journal” just recording stuff. Low stakes. A meditation with a pen in my hand. More on my TBR (to be read) stack, more on plants, and a trip to a restaurant with an amazing ambiance. Thanks for being here. Thanks for being you. I hope you find some time to do a little more nothing these days.
With Warm (ninety degree) Regards,
Jessica
Gorgeous Experience
Coyol Restaurant on a hilltop in Nosara, Costa Rica
Courageous Reads
Having just finished reading What my Bones Know by Stephanie Foo, I am determined to start feeling more positive about my own journey with C-PTSD (Complex PTSD). I’ve not actually been diagnosed with C-PTSD, but I’ve self diagnosed. Layers of trauma during various stages of my childhood that kept me dissociated for years. I still feel like I am so awkward socially and not very forgiving of myself, but am also tired of “fixing” myself. Foo’s book helped me to feel more brave about taking new steps to heal. The abuse and eventual abandonment she experienced from her parents meant she closed off her feelings and referred to herself as: “I am not a girl. I am a knife.” That survival mode and anger controlled her, as did shame. I will be looking more deeply into resources Foo mentions so many great resources including Dr. Ham and his work “helping [people] heal from interpersonal injury and the self-harm of fear, doubt, loathing and despair.” (Like, hello. Sign me up).
Also added to my TBR pile is: Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking by David Bayles and Ted Orlando; Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver; The Gift of Therapy by Irvin Yalom; and Chilly Scenes of Winter by Ann Beattie. Who, BTW, I met along with her artist husband, Lincoln Perry at the New York State Summer Writers Institute at Skidmore College in 2008ish where Ann was a guest speaker. I was there on a poetry fellowship and, during a reading event, I was seated directly behind Lincoln and admired the sketches he was making in his notebook, sketches of falling human figures. He told me he wasn’t over 9-11 and the photos of people jumping from the twin towers haunted him. That was what he was sketching. I don’t think he ever published any, at least not that I could find online. I guess he just needed to process emotionally thought drawing.
Journaling: An Old, New Practice
Journaling. I just decided to do it more consistently. It’s always been something I have held in the highest regard, even if it’s just keeping calendar notes every day. That daily touchstone of writing. And doodles, colorful patchworks of collage, or sketches. A journal bursting at the seams. Drool. This is something I feel very nerdy about in fantasy, but in reality it’s hard for me to execute. So I am starting small.
Last week I bought a new purple moleskin. The first couple of entries were…painful. I felt unsettled as my pen hovered over the blank lined page. The stakes around writing have always felt so high for me and, I know, it’s all in my head. I actually had to take deep breaths as I started to write, to let go of my ideal of what would come out of my mind. I don’t have to be Anais Nin or Karen Blixen in my journal. Journal entries don’t have to be works of art. They don’t have to be complete or even interesting. So, I’ve lowered the stakes for myself. This is not so much journaling as it is a writing meditation. The goal is simply to jot down a few thoughts every day, a few observations. I can write about what I’m seeing or feeling or ideas I have. Maybe, eventually, I’ll also pick up some colored pencils and make some shapes, draw some flowers. I can do this. Whatever I make, I generally like for it to be beautiful, but my process is always and always have been—messy. Messy journaling, is that a thing? Whatever my approach as long as I get the habit to stick I will be happy. Who knows how the ritual might blossom over time?
The Coyol restaurant in Nosara sits on top of a nearly inaccessible hilltop with a view over Nicoya. We arrived after dark and after windy, bumpy mud and creek covered roads and me nearly in tears at one point as I freaked out about our car possibly careening over a steep precipice. I was tired. It was already almost 8PM and we had an early flight in the morning. The future, when I have to be somewhere by a certain time, always makes me anxious. The lack of lights, people, structures, signs of humanity on our way to Coyol also made me anxious. When we finally arrived it was like a scene from a movie. The parking attendant with flashlight, the light-bedecked pathways, the lushness of Costa Rica and then Coyol. The sounds of laughter and silverware on plates. The smell of meat roasting and the sound of ice in a cocktail shaker. We entered, gave our name for our reservation, and sat at a rough-hewn wood table. All around us the people sitting together, the enjoyment, the candles lit, the bar a fabulous palette of colors from the glass of the liquor bottles. The whole restaurant exposed to greenness on three sides. This was our last night in Costa Rica, and while the food was fine and rich and the drinks memorable, what I can’t forget is the family on the patio who looked as if they’d stepped out of an 80s Calvin Klein advertisement. The aura around them was of wealth and contentment. I thought of three story white clapboard mansions in Hudson Bay with trellised roses and a turquoise pool surrounded by wrought iron loungers with deep cushions made with hydrangea print. You can read more about Coyol: here. But the photo I’ve included, which I took because I just had to walk outside and look in at where I was, to see the experience from the outside, the photo is my favorite memory of that evening.
Herb to Know: Astragalus
In my first newsletter I mentioned how much I love plants. I do. They are like kin to me and doesn’t my last name prove it? Plante. Plant. Plante-Curl. I think of fern fronds and fiddleheads, sweet peas climbing with outstretched curly cues.
Last week I added Astragulas to my pill routine (I take a lot of pills — reason is below) because I thought a new supplement my husband started taking said Astragalus, but it was Ashwagandha. Oops. Not that Ashwagandha would be bad for me to take — just a weird way to have Astragalus come back into my life. In my 20s I used this herb a bit and knew the pale yellow dried root was not too bitter and a bit mucilaginous when wet. The plant looks like sweet pea, or cow vetch to me. When I took it, it immediately gave me sensations in my stomach, making me feel lighter and a bit more relaxed. My gut health has been sub-par for years and has impacted my ability to digest and absorb nutrients. Stress and burnout from my time in my PhD and a bad tangle with a creepy ex elevated my cortisol, stress, and blasted my mental health from 2016 to 2021. I’ve been recovering slowly ever since I got my diagnosis (a stomach ulcer and S.I.B.O - small intestine bacterial overgrowth, which is sometimes called IBS, which can also be tied to C-PTSD) in Summer of 2022. COVID also hampered my road to recovery.
Astragalus is a great herb for the whole body, toning the Qi (Chinese for vitality) and helping to protect you from anxiety. It can also help with depression and assist your immune system. Herbs that do this are called adaptogens. You can get friendlier with Astragalus: here.
Some other things I’ve enjoyed lately:
This Old Money Italian Summer playlist on Youtube that’s got me dreaming of a trip next summer to Italy and also scenes from The Talented Mr. Ripley (original and the Netflix remake).
If you’ve never dabbled in international television streaming, might I recommend subscribing to BritBox? We’ve been enjoying a lot of murder mysteries including the new show, Murder is Easy.
Finally, if you live in Oregon, you can check out The Ford Family Foundation’s SelectBooks program. They periodically give away free copies of books they’ve selected. I got a hardback copy of Demon Copperhead from them no strings. Lovely!
Next newsletter will feature a micro-interview on what brings peace with Wanda Lipson, MSW, LICSW, and owner of Perspective Growth. I’ll also share photos from a wedding at Brasada Ranch in Bend, OR.