Dear Friends,
On the MLK Jr. holiday, the first day of snow, I took the train into the city to meet up with my friend Rajani. Snow on a federal holiday rendered the city silent, everyone indoors making coffee, hunting for thicker socks.
Except the dogs, of course. The dogs of DC still had to go out, and their humans with them. I passed a dog park on my walk from the station, a fence enclosing pure joy.
At Rajani’s apartment, we squealed over the coziness of it all. Rajani baked a quiche. I sat on a bar stool and watched the snow as we chatted. Leaning full into the cozy, I’d brought us craft supplies–some of those bedazzle-by-number kits Instagram finally succeeded in selling me.
Rajani and I met in 2015 when she and my husband Jake were in State Department orientation together. She’s also a Foreign Service Officer, and she’s served in Haiti, Morocco, and now DC. She’ll be off to Belgium as we depart for Kyrgyzstan. I find that friendships with other diplomats can have a shimmering quality to them. You can be apart for long stretches of time, and when you’re back together, it’s as if nothing has changed. And yet, we live with a constant acknowledgement of impermanence. We don’t take any time together for granted.
Our conversation meandered from the holidays to family to work. Rajani asked me how my new music class was going.
“How do you know when a kid has musical ability?” she asked me.
“Funny enough, they all do,” I told her. “All children are musical.”
They all have the potential to be able to move in rhythm and carry a tune if they’re exposed to music-making enough in the first five years or so.
“Wait, really?”
I told her about how parents will often approach my colleagues and say, almost conspiratorially, My baby LOVES music.
When this happens, of course, we’re warm and encouraging. It’s really special when a child exhibits a love for music.
But the real secret? All babies love music. Every single one of them.
Both things are true. It is uniquely special and exciting that your baby loves music, and it is also marvelous and exciting that all babies do, in kind. That everyone, at birth, has musical potential.
What if we thought this way about other things? Happiness, for instance? That all people had the capacity to live a happy life?
I listened to an interview with Esther Perel this week in which she suggested that the easiest way to improve the quality of your life is to reach out to someone and connect. Ask someone to join you for an activity you were going to do anyway. Have a phone call with a friend instead of just texting. When you’re thinking about someone, let them know.
I realized this was exactly what spurred the lovely day I had with Rajani. I had been thinking about her, so I texted to ask if we could get together.
“Are you kidding?” she texted back. “I’m in a definite woo-woo-NYE-new-energy wave, but I was just thinking of you!”
It seems so simple, and yet it’s easy to get in a rut where we believe everyone is busy and happy without us. But it’s not true. Your people want to hear from you. All anyone wants is your full attention and presence.
You don’t have to be a globetrotter or a world-renowned therapist to treasure the act of being together. If you have young children, you know the value of an uninterrupted conversation with a friend (uninterrupted anything, really–how many snacks have I had to get throughout the drafting of this newsletter?). And it’s not a far stretch to remember the pandemic isolation of just a few years ago.
I have a tendency to get a little “live every day like it’s your last” when it comes to gathering with other people. Everything is limited, so we better really show up when we’re together.
Maybe it’s because I’m moving soon, or because I am in a demanding life stage of parenting. Maybe it’s because my father died about thirty-years-of-conversations too soon. Maybe it’s the pandemic or the movement of the planets or my anxiety or the fact that I’ll be 40 in a few years, but it seems to me that the point of everything is connection. The key to happiness, the meaning of life. And we all have the potential to live a life that feels better.
We’re all just wandering around in the snow, hoping for that designated fenced-in area where we can be off leash, together, right?
Your leash could be your job, your hard emotions. Probably, though, it’s just your phone.
You don’t have to lean all the way into a confrontation with your mortality to enjoy time spent in connection, to fulfill your potential for a better quality of life. Just pick up your phone and get in touch with a friend. And then put it down when you’re together. Take a walk. Share a meal. Do some very low-stakes jewel art. You, too, (alongside all the dogs and babies) deserve to experience joy.
Take good care,
Dot
News & Updates
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Reach out today to schedule your free 15-minute consultation with Katie, Adele, or Laura.
Blog Posts
The new year is often a time of fresh inspiration, new resolutions, and fresh starts. Last year, I began the new year feeling excited about a new iteration of The 100 Day Project. Other days I’ve felt rejuvenated for new activities, trips, or plans.
But this year? I feel a little meh. My family’s been pretty much constantly sick since Halloween. The forecasters are calling for snow, my least favorite weather. And when it comes to writing and making art, I don’t have a single new idea in my head. So what do you do when you’re in a creative rut?
Links We Like
An old phone booth repurposed for…bird calls? (WaPo)
Subway art! I’d love to visit all of these one day.
Ann Friedman on the difference between regret and grief. (TW: Pregnancy).
One of my favorite art-places getting some love on Colossal this week!
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That snow dog reminds me of your delightful snow songbirds! Another wonderful newsletter as always 🫶🏻