I’m republishing an essay from February 21, 2022 this morning. When I found it last week, I realized how far I’ve come since that time and how much I needed to hear what it had to say. Even now, when things are much less volatile than they were back then. Because you might be staring at something in your life and not knowing what it means, but it’s also not asking much of you. This could be the new neighbors down the street, some background noise in your social calendar, a change in parenting logistics, a shift in a relationship that’s not bad, not good, just different. At some point, you realize that the shift was a response to something.
Onward —
P.S. Reading that I wrote this around two long walks with my (now deceased) dog moved something in me!
My writing space is surrounded by tall trees, which serve as a green screen. I am benignly and un-specifically aware of them throughout the day — they present as ambient visual noise — but sometimes, I stop to observe them. I would crane my neck to see a single tuft of foliage wedged between the two buildings directly across from my writing desk in the concrete jungle of Manhattan, where they are still a fresh respite. They also serve as a reminder of Things Bigger Than I because they bend, move, and rustle in patterns that are hard to identify but melodic nonetheless. I sat down at my desk the other day and briefly examined them. I realized they felt like an answer.
To what, I don’t know. Yes, but only in the most obvious way to New York. It feels more accurate to say they stand in response to the last many years of search and stress. To process this and write my way into something solid, I went on two long walks with my dog. I came back empty-handed. But maybe that’s all there is to it: answers aren’t always based on numbers. They can sometimes be hard to quantify and suggestive. A head nod, a sigh, or a shift in body weight can sometimes be an answer. a measure of music’s half-rest. a pause in a paragraph. If you are looking for a sign that you have made the right decision, know that assurances do not always present in legible script. Sometimes an answer is realizing that, somewhere over the course of the past few weeks, you stopped feeling as though you might throw up with nerves while presenting to your colleagues at work. A significant other may illuminate your path with an answer. Sometimes an answer is anticipating the sun on your face while walking the same circuit you walk every single day. The sway of the trees outside your window is sometimes the cause.