A few jumbled August thoughts (with Moon List)

I thought I’d do something different here today, because I was unable to write for a few days last week, and also because I feel like doing something different. I’ll post my weekly on Wednesday or Thursday, perhaps. But now I’m going to – inspired and informed by Leonie – write along to Moon List’s prompts. (You can choose the ‘free subscriber’ option and still read the prompts. )

This bundle of suggestions by Leigh is themed for a northern hemisphere summer, but it’s winter down here, so I’ll write accordingly …

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1. pattern language

“Identify a subconscious pattern of the summer winter, either happening in the background or that you’ve enacted.”

My rheumatologist said there are currently no untried-by-me treatments left to have a go at, in the quest to get better, so it’s time to dip into non-doctor things.

I’ve started doing a self-healing Reiki practice each morning. It takes about thirty minutes and I do it while still cosied up in bed. Hands on face, then ears, then neck, then chest, then stomach, then abdomen, then hips, then lower back, then … wherever I choose next. Then finish. Try not to be too consumed by intrusive thoughts. Do the best I can, under the circumstances.

I don’t know if this will help, but investing this time in myself before the day truly begins feels positive and cute. I’ve also prescribed myself 20 minutes a day in the garden, ideally with hands in the dirt weeding or planting or propagating or similar, in the hopes of Vitamin D/earthing/general outdoorsy benefits.

2. starter pack

“Play my game: create a shortlist of this season’s specific ‘things’.”

Here are a few of mine: favourite palm sized crochet hook, new second-hand 2 cup stovetop espresso maker, just-purchased book called The Little Virtues, always reached-for little vegetable knife with the pink handle, floral pillowcases a friend sent to me, spiral bound reporter’s notepad, stainless steel ricer for mashing potatoes and other vegetables, my forever-favourite breakfast cup.

3. minimal effort

“In what areas of life are you currently coasting? Maybe a relationship, maybe a neglected herb garden you once vowed to maintain…”

I coast as much as possible due to chronic illness. Any surge in activity might render me useless for most things for days on end, so you’ll find me championing the coast most days. I’m positively coastal.

4. you’re on mute

“I give you permission to just chronicle something or someone that is—personally, presently—annoying the hell out of you.”

Gosh. I don’t know. I don’t want to get into drama here so I’ll skip this one. Suffice to say there are plenty of annoyances in my life, and I am doing my very best to deal with them as affably as possible. Not sure if that’s actually working, but the intention is there, at the very least.

5. house merch

“When I was a kid, my friend with the coolest parents had literal house merch that I have thought about basically weekly since then (it rotated with the seasons and usually was some kind of pun about their last name + margaritas printed on a styrofoam cup). Your assignment is to create a version of this for your own home: what’s printed on the cup this summer?”

This winter our house merchandise would feature an image of a hedgehog curled up in a cosy nest and the caption ‘the snuggle is real’. The hedgehog would symbolise our prickliness when disturbed, the nest is the snug spaces we favour, and the caption sums up our homebody household.

6. temporary obsession

“What do you like right now that—honestly—is a phase you’re going to forget about?”

Hmm. Lemme think. Cucumber salad. I like cucumber salad right now. It’s all over TikTok and I love making one each day, inventing dressings from whatever’s on hand and crunching them down in a few short minutes because they’re so delicious.

7. horizon line

“A sunset drive when the light was just right. A grounding conversation with an old friend. An act of unspoken kindness. A July thunderstorm. Recall a recent moment where you felt clarity, or a shift in perspective, or witnessed something that connected you to anything beyond the obvious.”

I was weeding the pea and sweet pea patch in the back garden yesterday, and there are these giant – what I thought were weeds – soaring up through the other plants. I pulled one out yesterday without thinking about it too much, and then I looked at it more closely and realised it was a fledgling sunflower, that there were in fact five or six sunflower plants pushing their way out of the earth. I honestly didn’t remember planting them, but when I thought a bit harder I recalled that I threw the contents of a bunch of nearly empty seed packets into that corner of the garden. That yesterday’s me was doing things to give today’s me a brighter day. That I am not swerving through the days completely unmoored and unwell. That I am always making small moves towards better times. Such a bolstering realisation.

8. summer winter shorthand

“A couple weeks back I visited a stranger’s home in a tiny coastal California town. Really, it was an architectural marvel, and built entirely out of supplies from the pocket-sized, scrappy local hardware store (paint colors included). Working with what you have can be an act of freedom. With that in mind, what’s your anecdotal story du jour? When you go to dinner with a friend, what’s the thing you talk about? What little interaction is eating away at you (for good or bad)?”

This kind of follows on from the last prompt response, doesn’t it? And even the cucumber salad dressing … Working with what you have. I have a difficult relationship with a family member, and it’s become more patchy and abrasive as years have passed. Last week I was at the op shop and I bought a book – called My Tuscan Childhood – to read while I was in the hospital waiting room. When I arrived and settled in to wait for my appointment, I opened the book and there was a name handwritten on the imprint page, the name of a person that family member and I have in common (although the person appeared many years ago in life, for me.) I took a little video of the book cover and my hands opening to the page and zooming in on the common person’s name, then sent it to the family member with a note saying “such a small world!” or similar. Family member messaged back the next day, and I sent some family photos in response and we ended the exchange on an affectionate note. Not really an anecdotal story du jour, but more an illustration of how sometimes events conspire for positive outcomes, if that makes any sense.

So fun to do something fresh and thoughtful (in a different way) here. What would some of – or one of – your answers be?

Your pal,

Pip

xoxo

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