I've been in Dallas for the months of September and October, reunited again with my partner after being long-distance for the majority of this year. We celebrated Chuseok (Korea’s version of thanksgiving) over the weekend and took a drive to an area called Carrollton, where we purchased some songpyeon rice cakes from H-Mart.
While in the H-Mart parking lot, we noticed something quite bizarre. Hundreds of birds were perched on the buildings and cars, chirping and crowing loudly. It almost felt like they were scheming, waiting for the humans to be gone. (Turns out they wanted to revenge us by defecating on all the parked cars.) Their behavior was so out of the ordinary that I got the feeling these birds were visitors, not normally here.
I wasn't wrong. Currently, two billion (!) birds are migrating south and passing through Texas on their long, dangerous journey to warmer destinations. This migration is one of the largest on the planet, and you can see them everywhere you look, in unbelievable numbers. As of writing this, the city of Dallas is carrying out a campaign called 'Lights Out' to dim lights on skyscrapers, helping to protect the birds and minimize disorientation.
I know their presence here has nothing to do objectively with my life. But in a writerly selfish fashion, I'd like to pretend it has everything to do with me. The descent of these migratory birds, at this moment in time, is a convenient instrument to make sense of things.
If you’re new here: After many years in NYC, for the past two years, I have been splitting my time between California (my home state) and Dallas (where my partner lives). Although two moves in a short period would make anyone feel out of sorts, I knew there was more to it than the changing of my physical environment. I simply did not feel in sync with myself and I think I was in search of answers or some sort of relief from the feeling.
Over this summer, I finally found the root of the problem. There were gaping canyons of memory and understanding between three “versions” of myself: the 23-year old college grad me I left behind in California, the young adult identity I had built up in NYC, and the me of today.
A moment for the pandemic skip
I felt relief reading The CUT’s article last month titled “The Pandemic Skip: By now, many of us have fully resumed our post-COVID lives. But what about all the years we missed?” I found myself re-reading sentences, making all the proverbial ooo-ing and ah-ing. I had finally found a helpful label for this particular chapter of wandering.
"This pandemic skip — the strange sensation that our bodies might be a step out of sync with our minds." (via Katy Schneider)
There were a few comments under the article that I also want to add here:
To not forget that elderly and at-risk communities were hit the hardest. Losing cognitive and mobile function or at worst losing their life.
Pandemic or not, life doesn’t follow a simple trajectory for most people. Nobody is guaranteed a smooth chronological unfolding. The expectation that life will follow any safe and predictable timeline is an immense privilege and actually rare. (It’s also a part of society’s propaganda.)
There is a deeper phenomena behind experiencing the pandemic skip than not being able to wear the same clothes or “acting your age” as written in the article. Overexposure to youthful hyper-trends via social media may be adding to an experience of age dysphoria.
There is a level of social disconnection that will take time to repair. We could all use more friendship and understanding across generations.
How to mend and bridge narrative gaps
“Time is an illusion, a construct made out of human memory. There’s no such thing as the past, the present, or the future. It’s all happening now.” (via Blake Crouch, Recursion)
Instead of thinking about time, I’ve found it much more helpful to connect the dots based on the stories I’m telling myself about life, about others, about who I am…
Don’t rush or force the journey.
Whether it was starting new projects or taking on too much work, I tried so hard to “get back to normal” over the past two years. I was afraid of stagnation. Turns out it’s easy to mistaken the need for quiet reflection as stagnation.
Allowing learnings and realizations to unfold at the speed they’re meant to was one way I’ve matured. You’d be surprised at how quickly things move along on their own when the timing is right. Especially at the beginning of transitions, slow and organic is better.
Breathe and practice daily movement.
Walking, hiking, yoga, and swimming have proved to be my favorite connect-with-my-body activities. The more I connect with the energy of my body, the more I feel connected to the present. Daily movement of any kind gives me the calm and energized mind I need to not get distracted by things out of my control.
Witness what’s changed and give yourself grace.
While in California, I’ve got to spend a great amount of time with my parents. Their wrinkles have gotten much more prominent and it’s been humbling to watch them process coming face-to-face with their later years.
I have reached out to old friends and tried to rekindle relationships. Mini vans, child-friendly dates, back to back weddings and proposals, home ownership, pivots in professions, and more. Everyone has moved forward on such different tracks of life. Sometimes you hear something so good on TikTok that you actually write it down: “These friendships function as conduits to earlier versions of ourselves.”
I have dramatically shifted how I engage with my parents — optimizing for quality memories and connection. Many friendships and relationships have run their course and that’s okay. It’s been a blessing in disguise going through different levels of grieving.
Leave behind what is no longer aligned. Know your appetite.
Lately, I’ve enjoyed thinking about personal bandwidth through the lens of appetite. It takes time and energy to digest all that life throws at us.
There’s only so much room I have on my plate at any given moment and a key part of feeling aligned with myself again has included intentionally saying goodbye to counterproductive habits, identities, relationships, and labels that no longer feel right. Let go of what’s no longer you or true. Make space for the next course.
Spend time with wisdom. Meditate on your purpose.
I believe everyone needs to have cross-generational relationships. I’m always moved when I spend time with my halmuni (grandmother). She’s now in her late 80s and is battling breast cancer. This is her second time fighting cancer in her lifetime. Her tumor has spread and she has chosen not to seek chemotherapy. (It’s been hard to accept, but I’m learning to honor her wishes.)
It’s a strange experience watching her live in low-income housing unit on the same streets as Apple and Google. Her hands are frail and wrinkled from years of working on the Silicon Valley semiconductor assembly lines as an immigrant factory worker, and then as a cleaner of their buildings at night.
But despite everything she has endured in her lifetime, she remains full of vibrant energy and joy. She lives her life in service to others and shows gratitude for each day. Spending ample time with someone like her and just hearing her stories has pushed me to re-center myself and be hungry again to live my life with purpose and in honor of her.
Try things, experiment. Get curious and find sparks of joy again.
Protecting my curious spirit and gently engaging with the things I know I love or want to try always brings me joy. For example, in my 20s I enjoyed hip hop dance classes as a hobby, but now I’m considering learning something entirely different like jazz. Maybe I’ll pick up some instruments again!
I also have reintegrated the practice of reading and collecting things that inspire me. All the headlines are telling us that social media is ruining our attention spans and I believe it’s a real epidemic. Being outdoors, reading, mood-boarding, blogging, and curating are the kindling for my curiosity.
Chart the next migration. Be open to serendipity.
My favorite moments in life are when I feel I’m on the cusp of leveling up. Truth be told I know that I spent the past decade speeding up this feeling through changing jobs or cities. These past three years though have taught me what “leveling up” looks like internally at a slow pace.
From my rabbit hole on bird migrations, I learned the following German word: “zugunruhe,” that is, “migratory restlessness.” It’s been quite rewarding doing this work on myself, but this specific sun rotation is setting and it’s time for change again. I don’t know exactly what it will look like or entail. How exciting.
“Hey ChatGPT, what spiritual or symbolic meaning could witnessing billions of migratory birds hold?”
Witnessing birds during their migration can symbolize renewal, freedom, unity, guidance, and a connection to nature. It may also represent the cycle of life and death, transcendence to higher realms, harmony, hope, and personal transformation. The spiritual or symbolic meaning depends on individual beliefs and experiences but generally reflects themes of rebirth, interconnection with the natural world, and personal growth.
So, what’s next?
We’re packing up our boxes currently and moving to Washington D.C. very soon. NYC is also in the cards for a much needed visit and catch-up with friends hopefully before the end of this year. (:
As you can tell, I’ve felt like I’ve been treading a bit in place for awhile now and I’m excited to move on from this time warp.
(P.S. I’m also contemplating changing the name of this newsletter entirely to Turntable. I think the concept fits a much wider range of topics than just curating links across the web. What do you think?)
This was a simply wonderful read Emerline!