Starting now, most of my letters are going to be for paid subscribers. You see, I spend a lot of time thinking about what it means to be human. I write from my personal experience, which is, well, personal. I write about it all—for me and for my people—in case it serves you in some small way. Read my updated About Me for more.
To the naked eye, I may seem like an organized person. A little quirky, but a put-together, thoughtful, graceful being. I’ve even been called elegant. But I think I’m more haphazard and clumsy. In my natural habitat, I do best in environments where I can go with the flow.
I absolutely have an appreciation for beauty and systems and structure and automation… but that’s because they allow me to flow freely. When things are intentionally organized and resourced, I can relax and enjoy the parts that are meant to be messy and undone.
If you look closely, you’ll see neat piles of grouped items, to be sorted in batches. If you hear me trip, spill, or break something, you’ll see me clean it up with nonchalance and ease. The kids know they can make a mess so long as they clean it up before moving on to the next thing. You’ll see me whirling around doing ten things at once, and somehow manage to get things done.
Want to know what goes on in the mind of a tornado person? Here’s what this morning’s whirl looked like:
7:10 AM: I’ve been awake for a while when I feel B stir next to me. I tell him what time it is. He hops up like a rabbit and the bed is mine.
I stretch my stiff and tired body. I recognize the feeling of dehydration in my body, which is pleasant progress; I don’t usually know my body’s cues like that. With this information, I make a note to wash my water bottle. It has hourly demarcations along the side of the bottle to help me stay on track throughout the day.
B puts his boots on and we hug and kiss and linger and wish each other a good day. Once he reaches the end of the driveway, I lock the door and make my way upstairs.