on being called a "Real Life Spirit Guide"

yes, we can have nice things // 08

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Photo by Maude Frédérique Lavoie

Hi friends,

And so it begins! A whole cascade of life changes. I feel as though I’m being pummeled with new ideas lately—with the power of both decisions made and inchoate. It’s a time that feels ripe and sparkling with potential. I’m inspired and having inspired conversations with new and old friends alike; I’m figuring things out in beautiful new ways. Things I’ve wanted—or that have been floating around in the ether for a long time—feel gorgeously accessible now.

And even though there are moments of fear and overwhelm (read: moving can never exactly be easy, can it?), but the other feelings, that infectious goodness, far and away outweigh them. Here’s to carrying them through into this week and beyond, and I hope you’re all feeling just as good.

1. More on softness and steel, together: I fought softness for a long time. It’s something I did both consciously (as a teenager) and then it stayed with me, in ways that both invigorated and protected me, and were exactly what I needed… until they weren’t. It’s so hard to be vulnerable in a world so full of varying perils, especially as a woman. But I’ve been lucky—lucky to find friends who see me, lucky to have family that I know will always be there—to grow into the kind of vulnerability I’m proud to express now.

2. My friend Trilety, who writes the fantastic

I won't keep you

newsletter, pointed out to me that ram horns, if they’re like antlers, which are covered with velvet, have both softness and steel. Of course I had to look into this further, because hi, it me, your fave Aries, and I discovered that horns are made entirely of bone, but are instead covered with keratin, which gives them their smoothness. And now I can’t stop thinking about that.

I’m also a really big fan of those goats that hang suspended in air (read: on the branches of trees), because obviously. Nature is the fucking coolest.

3. Tiny Beautiful Things on Hulu is a wonderful adaptation of Cheryl Strayed’s eponymous book of essays chronicling the best of her Dear Sugar advice column (first for The Rumpus, now on Substack).

I love how unashamedly messy it is, in addition to being just as gripping and emotional as you’d think; best to have a tissue box ready for this one, and reserve any sense of judgment so you can thoroughly enjoy actress Kathryn Hahn in the role, where she shines. The Hahn renaissance is something I am absolutely here for.

4. I had a genuinely beautiful birthday. My friends made it thoroughly special, and it’s been amazing to receive this outpouring of support from the people I care about and respect so much, especially when it comes to moving into the next chapter of my life. Really going to miss my San Francisco family when I go.

5. Last year, my birthday was incidentally the first day Google required employees to go back into the office, but I’d requested it off; Dani and I picnicked at Alamo Square instead, and I cried to her about how impossibly anxious I felt to go back. It’s strange now to consider just how much has changed since then. And it’s moving to recall just how much I enjoyed being around people in that capacity again. Yes, the anxiety lingered before eventually fading; but I distinctly remember stopping colleagues in hallways and asking if I could embrace them, feeling thrilled to say hi, to chat, to care in person, regardless. (Yes, I was that person and I insist on remaining unashamed about it!).

This is also when Camilo and I became friends, pretty much instantly. Proof that the times when you feel most scared can ultimately yield some of the best things in life.

6. April 2022 was a potent time. I found myself conducting little experiments on the bus every day. I was listening to Joe Dispenza meditations, writing up a storm, and focusing on sending out the purest energy I could. I will forever remember how powerful that felt, how blissful and inchoate and anonymous, and how it was to be in a throng of people again at that time. How surprising it was to be happy to hug one another, despite how nervous I’d felt about it prior. You know when you look back on things that turned out so much better than you imagined? Love when that happens.

7. When I refer to quantum shifting, this is what I mean. I was in a certain timeline then, one that I am no longer in. Could I get back there? Probably. Do I want or need to? No. Can I carry those traits with me, though? Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. There are so many possibilities, so many options, myriad ways in which life can unfold. I get so excited thinking about this.

8. One of my cousins is married to someone very special whom I’m convinced I knew in a past life. In this one, I jokingly refer to Marisa as my cousin in law; she recently called me her “real life spirit guide,” which is one of my favorite things anyone’s ever said to me. She’s just so pretty! Her soul, her energy. And I’m thrilled that I can hold that space for her.

9. Ireland is experimenting with a program that pays artists basic income. Very cool. (Via

Roxane Gay

for her Substack, The Audacious.) I must admit I didn’t know there were pilot programs similar to this one in San Francisco and New York, though Ireland’s differs in that it’s government funded (now to envision something like this ever happening in America… sigh).

10. A gorgeous piece on how writing has shaped who she is from Kate MacRitchie, who writes

Selkie Grove

.

has writing changed my personality?

11. The wallpaper! The bookshelves under and around the staircase! The whimsy!

houseandgardenuk

A post shared by House & Garden Magazine (@houseandgardenuk)

12. This week’s poem is the stunning Blue 52, written by Kate Pyontek (via their newsletter

Lost in the Forest

). In reference to the 52-hertz whale.

When a whale stops singing, he’s 
given up asking for anything. 
A console piano, crushed. No sacrament 
here, the tabernacle looted 
ages ago. Moss shrouds the silent, 
sits green like a cathedral
humming with the organ of the unsaid. 
There’s more to listening than wavelength.
There is the question, inversely, 
of something being said. Truth dies 
not with the bones, which live forever, or 
with the tongue, which decays later, but 
with the heart that stops insisting. A spill 
at the altar from when the bottle broke. 
Drunks’ wine. Blood-pact. Promise. What 
is language, except a cup with which 
to insist on one’s name? Imagine: years 
rattling insufficient coins. The music
of metal on metal. I’m still here, I’m still here, I’m still here.

—Blue 52, Southeast Review.

And last up, your witch tip of the week:

13. It took everything in me not to crack a terrible thyme/time pun for this week’s tip, but I’m well and truly hyperfixating on thyme water. It’s exactly what it sounds like—a bundle of the purifying herb in your water (bonus Pinterest points if you put it in a mason jar) for its detoxifying and anti-inflammatory properties, among multiple other benefits. It’s really good for the respiratory system when brewed as a tea, and just exudes that wonderful green smell, too. Like a forest in a cup.

Big hugs,

Kimia