Talking body
I somewhat recently subscribed to the belief that the self is actually made up of at least four separate elements— the intellectual, spiritual, emotional, and physical—which when in balance, are just that, balanced. Or that’s the goal. I don’t know if I’ve ever been particularly in balance. I think for most of us one element drives the bus and everybody else just comes along for the ride. For me that’s typically meant that the physical self is something to be subjugated— that any signs or signals coming from that aspect were weaknesses to be overcome; that the mind controlled the body and that the physical self was basically just a delivery system / meat suit that carried everything much more important around. I didn’t take input from my body seriously. And I didn’t think anybody did. I thought Olympic-level athletes, for example, overcame physical trials and limitations via mental toughness. And certain parties wanted me to think that, I think. I mean they certainly sold a lot of sneakers and Gatorade and sports jerseys and posters of slam dunks with that kind of mindset. I have learned in the years since that the body is actually a really rich source of information. The body holds on to a lot for us. The body is the battleground and the prize, a source of pleasure and pain and joy and important insights, and it deserves some attention. Which leads me to the point: I’ve been thinking a lot about rest, lately. Around these parts (America?) I feel like rest gets a bad rap. It's something I always thought of as a state you have to earn by working yourself to collapse. I’d like to change that.
In between traveling to see my family on the east coast for Thanksgiving and the current cooler mornings and evenings that we’ve been having in LA it’s felt like a real moment for leaning into being “cozy,” which feels analogous, if not totally synonymous with “restful:” warm layers, hearty foods, easily consumed content, comforting, not-particularly-trying activities. I made wreaths at home with my mother and sister, which on my part mostly involved gussying up wreaths someone else made. (A career in fashion makes you good at “gussying,” as does my mother’s collection of bows and random glittery bits collected from previous gifted floral arrangements.) Back in L.A. we bought a Christmas tree, tied it to the roof of our car and hauled it up the canyon. I know something living and drought-tolerant would probably be more appropriate and more “green” but right now we needed a tree. Even though I’m going to be traveling for most of the month. It’s okay for these signifiers to feel important, I think. We don’t have any ornaments yet because they’re all still in storage somewhere. Maybe I’ll make some origami ones. (…Maybe I’ll google how to make origami ones.)
This bell hooks passage about leisure and how it aids the creative process came to me at just the right time: “I am a girl who dreams of leisure, always have. Reverie has always been necessary to my existence. I have needed long hours where I am stretched out, wearing silks, satins, and cashmeres, just alone with myself, embraced by the beauty around me. I have always been a girl for fibers, for textiles, and for the feel of comforting cloth against my skin. When I have adorned myself just so, I am ready for the awesome task of just lingering, spending uninterrupted time with my thoughts, dreams, and intense yearnings, often the kind that, like unrequited love, go unfulfilled. Lately, in the midst of that solitude, I find myself writing, spinning words together in my head so as not to lose or forget the insights, the sharp moments of clarity that come during this quiet time, that surface amid the luxurious smells of expensive French lemon verbena soap and fruity perfume, a book in my hand.”
Someone on twitter called that a “coziness manifesto.” Sounds right to me. (I don’t love fruity perfume or lemon verbena, really, but I am “a girl for fibers,” that’s for damn sure.) René Descartes stayed in bed until noon for his entire life, pretty much, and he came up with a theory of consciousness that inspired centuries of philosophy. So you know what? I think it's okay to listen to our bodies if they’re calling out for softness, for rest, for taking it easy for this part of the year, this slow slide to the end of 2022. It’s not like your mind will stop whirring (I wish!), or that you call in sick to work until January, but you can give your meat suit a break, or whatever it wants (within reason). It’s a dynamic place. Let some other elements drive. See what comes up.
In the spirit of nurturing:
A few things I made to eat recently that were great, if you need ideas: Seared salmon with citrus and arugula salad. A nice omegas and good fats-rich break from your typical heavy fall/winter flavors. Folks, ring a bell, we’re entering citrus season! I also made Alison Roman’s famed turmeric chickpea stew, which I had never tried before despite the hype (/…because of the hype), and which was perfect for an cozy night of promised tree trimming that turned into the Lindsay Lohan Netflix movie when we realized we didn’t have any ornaments. I added lime at the end. (There’s lots of opinions on that and how much coconut milk you need to use in the comments. Go nuts.) And here’s a really great gochujang chicken and vegetables sheet pan wonder that I used to make a lot and don’t know why I haven’t recently, but this is a great reminder. Yes, 2/3 of these recipes are from the NYT cooking section, which requires a subscription, but do you know what? I really recommend subscribing! Today I learned about the history of collage because of an email from the great Melissa Clark via NYT Cooking. It’s this!
And now that we’re nurturing our minds:
Here’s a really interesting NYT story about compulsive lying, and the way things can spiral out of control if you let them. The former is not a problem I have, but the latter sure can be! Or used to be. Before I realized it’s so much better just to tackle the bad thing than let it fester and grow somewhere out of view. (But Alessandra, you’re saying, tackling your demons doesn’t sound very COZY or RESTFUL. Well guess what? We run into the pain sometimes in order to grow. And once we grow we can rest. Okay? Because letting your neuroses and fears run the show sure ain’t restful either.)
Fun(?) fact(??): Who knew! Apparently frowning is done with the forehead elsewhere in the world (versus in America, where we do it with our mouths). Clearly this means it is definitely not done much in New York or LA, where forehead movement appears to be at an all -time low.
I think you should read Circe by Madeline Miller. It’s not a new book. But a much-loved book. Especially by me. I grew up obsessed with all things Greek mythology, but that’s by no means a requirement to enjoy this. I think you will even if you didn’t dress up as Circe in the fourth grade for your Ancient Greece presentation, replete with a stuffed animal pig. It’s comforting and tragic and beautifully lush and a total page turner and perfect for our next few weeks of r&r that we just decided on a few paragraphs up. I have heard rumblings that Miller’s next book is about Persephone(!). I am thrilled. Also, apparently HBO max ordered a limited series of Circe back in 2019 that’s mysteriously yet to appear so why not read the book before that happens, in case they butcher it?
Here’s a nice thing to do for your face: I have never had more compliments on my skin than since I started using Kypris’ Beauty Elixir face oil at night. It smells and feels great and looks fabulous on a countertop or in a cabinet. Always a nice thing. 10/10.
I thought these stories about American rituals were beautiful. The one about the monks praying at dawn in the desert in Abiquiú, by my friend and former Vogue colleague, Abby Aguirre, especially .
Ok. That’s all for now. Take care of yourselves. Listen to your minds and your meat suits and your beautiful spirits, too. (Lord knows I’m trying.) As always, thanks for being here. I love you.