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“It’s the season I often mistake / Birds for leaves, and leaves for birds” -Ada Limón

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Strangely Satisfying #2

The strange feeling of release and airy lightness you get at the end of an uncontrollable, convulsive breakdown/sobbing.

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Alain de Botton - "If we have properly sobbed, at some point in the misery, an idea however minor will at last enter our mind and make a tentative case for the other side: We’ll remember that it would be quite pleasant and possible to have a very hot bath, that someone once stroked our hair kindly, that we have one and a half good friends on the planet and an interesting book still to read and we’ll know that the worst of the storm may be ebbing."

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Starting a new series where I'm chronicling weird/strange things that I find satisfying & fulfilling, here's entry #1!

Strangely Satisfying #1

Certain sounds/motions in ASMR are literally orgasmic (in that they make me feel good) despite not having any remotely salacious/suggestive undertones:

-The sound of long acrylic nails on plastic

-Tapping excess product off of a makeup brush

-The sound of dense chalk against a chalkboard

-Tracing the rim of a camera with a wooden/metal/glass tool

-Ballpoint pen writing against a wooden clipboard

-Opening/closing a heavy-duty glass/acrylic makeup or skincare product

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A Day Is Vast by Jane Hirshfield

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-Extracted from #2 Waiting to start, Evelyn’s Substack

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-Extracted from #2 Waiting to start, Evelyn’s Substack

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-Extracted from #1 Waiting for summer, Evelyn’s Substack

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If summer is meant to follow on the heels of spring, then today she is taking a sabbatical, skipping stones and counting petals under the shadow of spring’s withdrawal. Today, she lives slowly, holding sheaths of grain as she naps in the arms of oaken shade, oblivious to the demands of the buzzing bees and the unflowered meadows.

-Extracted from #1 Waiting for summer, Evelyn’s Substack

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"Have you ever ventured into the land of The Wait? It’s a place that blooms with color and potential and dizzying chaos. Where time moves differently, fate spins straw into gold, and emotions are more perishable than morning dew."

-Extracted from New Series: The Wait, Evelyn’s Substack

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"In between what you want and what you get, resides a place where you’ve lived out your most daring, dispiriting, and starry-eyed dreams. A place where all your longing breathes, sleeps, and pulsates with life." -Extracted from New Series: The Wait, Evelyn’s Substack

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I’m in a state of sleepy delirium now. Time has slowed to a trickle and I am lulled by the faint, steady rhythm of chopping and the breezy coolness of spring across my cheek.

Extracted from On dumplings, periods cramps & moms, Evelyn’s Substack 

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Extracted from On layoffs & new routines, Evelyn’s Substack 

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I’m starting to realize that the rigid rungs of corporate deadlines and deliverables were about the only things rearing structure to the otherwise floating hours of my day. Rather than being an inherently organized person, I’m just good at playing the game. My penchant towards organization came as a byproduct of my penchant to perform, a collateral perk of sorts.

Extracted from On layoffs & new routines, Evelyn’s Substack 

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“Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself that you tasted as many as you could”

-Louise Erdrich, The Painted Drum

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Trying to tame rage by tiptoeing around it is like trying to seek love in a whorehouse.

Extracted from “On Longing”, Evelyn’s Substack

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Is honesty supposed to feel so eerily torpid? Like the warped, surreal ticking of a metronome in slow-motion to a never-ending song?

Extracted from “On Longing”, Evelyn’s Substack

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Extracted from “On Longing”, Evelyn’s Substack