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on things and minimalism and tidying

Another half-baked blogpost—I'm hesitant to do too much editing to these, as their original draft form was pretty near perfect as far as expressing what I wanted to express.

 . . . . 

I feel like there are a lot of extreme reactions to Marie Kondo. I had my doubts, but they dissipated within minutes of starting her Netflix series.

Marie Kondo is a darling, diminutive Japanese woman and her presence lights up the room when she enters it. I love her approach and it is very Eastern; I feel we could do well to learn a thing or two from her. She doesn't advocate just wanton abandonment of material trappings—rather, hers is a thoughtful and methodical approach that teaches that we do not have to be beholden to the things in our lives. So often, minimalism advocates utility over sentimentality, but this is not so with Ms. Kondo.

Does it spark joy? Okay, so maybe your vacuum cleaner does not spark joy, but it does allow you to clean and freshen your space, and for me, that certainly brings me joy (and actually, one could argue that my vacuum actually DOES spark joy—I am obsessed with my vacuum cleaner). The ability to care for my home and space and keep it organized and clean brings me joy. And so I am keeping my fold-up laundry baskets and extra bed sheets and air purifier. Many of the things i have surrounded myself with unequivocally bring me joy—the art and images on my walls, many (but certainly not all) of the books on my shelves (and thus, this, too, is a lesson), and more.

not being beholden is a distinct and important thing. in a capitalist society, it is just the opposite of what the market would have us do. And so all this tidying and taking stock, is, in fact, an act of defiance. It is seeing who we are and what we have and deciding it is enough. It is demoting things of the power they have over our lives.

every time I move and what the experience of moving reminds me about what I own.


things I am learning in the process:
It is getting easier to say "no"
it is getting easier to make do, repurpose, hold out, borrow, innovate, mend
A more conscientious consumer (paper bags in pristine condition - every store I have gone to has taken them back, many delightedly and graciously; a florist friend who so appreciated my asking if she wanted the wreath rounds; the garden center that was delighted to have some plastic pots for transplanting; creativity in my outfits and a heavier reliance on accessories; thinking about how some college student has saved a few dollars by using one of my reused shipping envelopes at the local UPS store, who always takes them back)


a few favorites:
Reading My Tea Leaves
Brown Kids (E & Roe) is one of my favorite Instagram accounts - Instagram stories about her mom's shoes. this is what I love—compassionate and caring, not trying to change what is so true about her mom. I loved this so much.
and now, Marie Kondo

on: notions of success

Another half-baked blogpost with some of my many musings—a tiny snapshot of how my brain operates or looks at any given moment (if I had to pick a visual image to represent my mind, a starry sky of constellations seems just the ticket).

 . . . . 


Success is something I have been musing on for a long time.

As a senior in high school, I was voted by my classmates "Most Likely to Succeed." My photo was taken with my fellow bent-for-success classmate in the school library, each of us holding a stack of books. Even as a high school senior, I was so puzzled by this choice. While I was the typical brainy, straight-A student, I was also one who opted out of the AP bio and physics classes my peers were taking in favor of more art electives. Indeed, I spent all my free periods in the art room, working on projects and paintings.


for me, it is important that my work is fulfilling and meaningful—indeed, it must be if I am to dedicate so much of my time and my life to doing it.


Jameela Al Jamil - her invective of the beauty industry which has made millions telling women they aren't ___ enough (fill in the blank with whatever it happens to be this week). I have realized so much more how much of the carefully curated world around me is carefully designed to sell me on a certain lifestyle. The very words we casually throw around—"_____ goals" and ? what other examples? belie the insidious nature of it all. As I try to navigate this minefield, all the while trying to heed the advice to invest in my 401k, IRA, HSA, mutual funds, the list is seemingly endless, and build up my savings and save for a rainy day or a car breakdown or or or AND to pay rent and for groceries and live as a 20-something in the midst of all of this. Meanwhile people want me to step up and invest in real estate so I can build my equity, meanwhile I don't know what I'm going to be doing next year, let alone in 15 when the term of the typical mortgage would mature. Y I K E S. And this is the world I'm expected to buy into. But I don't buy it. Home ownership is not, at present, an aspiration of mine. I see the unexpected expenses and headaches and maintenance and weathering that go into it, and while that will likely be my lot in life at some future date, right now, I'd much rather have my fixed expenses and dash off a text to my landlord when the water heater/refrigerator/dishwasher/faucet/garage door opener breaks.


thinking that money brings happiness is an errant notion. it is a deceiving illusion, because as soon as you reach an arbitrary threshold, the finish line moves. If in this sense the finish line is what we consider pinnacle happiness and fulfillment.

the western world is so focused on status symbols and amassing wealth and possessions. We can learn a thing or two from Marie Kondo, whose diminutive and beaming presence throws those notions right out the window, along with the detritus of our product and object-filled lives.


Most Likely to Succeed
again I still puzzle over this
what exactly did they expect me to do? break a world record, start a fortune 500 company, discover the cure for cancer??? It's such an arbitrary thing. I just received that accolade on account of my good grades and dedicated student temperament—it had little-to-nothing to do with any decided aspirations. Indeed, I entered college with little to no clue about anything. An oldest child, I did not have many to advise me on the collegiate life. I recall my dad urging me to sign up for honors classes, but I was just overwhelmed and stressed with the nature of everything else to even begin to be able to comprehend what that meant or involved.


I have a lot of reservations about capitalism. I also have some pet theories that land ownership is a construct of feudalism and ultimately is a problematic basis for a society, particularly one where 'our land' is not our own.


that quote from Le Petit Prince - lamplighter vs. other work "necessary (important?) because it is beautiful"


interesting - Jordan Ferney uses the phrase "always for love, never for money" to describe her business ventures and company philosophy
my grandpa always said "never make a decision entirely based on money" and he had a point.

I see money as a means to an end, the end being living the kind of life I want to live. In this, my sense is less of the material trappings of my life, but the kind of life I am living—do I have time to pursue the things I enjoy (reading, writing, hiking, cooking, etc. etc.), am I comfortable to a point that finances are not a major source of stress, is my job fulfilling to me, do I have time for and invest in the relationships which matter to me.

as far as the traditional sense is concerned, by all accounts I am probably failing. But by my own account of my life and where I am at, I feel like I'm doing just fine.

perhaps much of it comes down to external versus internal motivation. I feel as though I am of the type who is rarely very externally motivated. Sure, there are things that incentivize my behavior and follow-through, but in the grand scheme of things, my drive and my passion originate deep within me. They are not easily quantifiable in the ways of the world, as my priorities concern the soul and my movement through this earth and as a visitor to the world I live in. I am learning and growing and I am not quite sure where I will go or end up, but I hope that it is surrounded by people I love, ideas that move me, words that resonate, and beauty that transcends the noise and the clutter (both literal and figurative, physical and metaphysical).

on stealth pajamas

One of my mother's philosophies of fashion is that of "stealth pajamas." (Another is "hypercolorcoordinosis," a fake medical term that originated as an inside joke with some of her physician colleagues.)

The stealth pajama is a well-known and well-founded concept in my family but I feel it bears mention here because lately I have cemented what is for me the epitome of stealth pajamas—the puffy vest. My mom describes stealth pajamas as an article of clothing or outfit that looks professional and put-together, but in fact feels like you're wearing your pajamas.

I never understood the point of wearing a vest, and then a couple years ago I read this post by Joanna Goddard—ah ha! She shared my sentiments exactly and after reading that, I realized the brilliance of the vest. I would take it one step further, even, in saying that it is in fact like wearing a blanket. Stealth pajamas if I ever saw them. Basically every day I ask myself the same question—"How often is too often?" (I have 3 vests.)

Ironically, I own a blanket that looks exactly like one of my vests. Tragically, the blanket is in New Jersey, but I can wear the vest to work, soooo...

on visceral things

This is a photo of mountains and farmland in Mapleton, Utah. On the morning that I took this, a brief moment in a tiny town with farms and back roads that also felt like New Jersey, it felt like Switzerland—a place I have been once and only for a short time. I cannot describe this any other way than that I felt it so viscerally. And this was not a new feeling; it was familiar and known, just new in its circumstances.

I have posted this quote one million times (because it is my favorite) and it is coming to mind again now. The same Creator who created these mountains created their Swiss counterparts. These visceral similarities are so remarkable to me and make this grand world feel a tiny bit smaller, even just for a moment, as I am connecting these dots.

use your words.

My roommate Amy and I would always say this to each other: "Use your words."

I try, but often my words fall short of describing the things I feel, the things I would like to express. I am so aware of the inadequacy of my words, the holes in my dialogue that leave something to be desired.

This [among many other reasons] is why I am thankful for art and music and film and books and people who can tell stories better than I. These things matter.

on: Paris

In case it was not apparent, I love Paris. I spent a grand total of 5 days there, yet it is without a doubt one of my favorite places. It was a life-changing city for me, as well as one of the most inspiring places I have ever been. I was looking through photos from my trip and somehow this one had slipped through the cracks, but I love it. I took this in the neighborhood where I stayed on a perfectly overcast Parisian day.

Now that more than a year has passed since I interned and lived in Siena and traveled to other European cities, I can view those experiences with a little more distance and perspective. My time abroad was absolutely incredible and I love how my experiences there were my own personal "European tour" of olden days, where artists and creatives would spend time in Europe to view famous works and further develop their own talents. My entire time in Italy was life-changing and I learned and grew so much. Something about Paris, though, I can pinpoint. That leg of my trip proved to me that I can do hard things. I went to Paris alone with a language barrier and there were some definite low points as a result, but I also got so much out of that trip because I got through those hiccups.

I love Audrey's quote in Sabrina: "Paris isn't for changing planes; it's for changing your outlook!" Part of what I love about my associations with Paris are those very outlooks and views of life, "la vie en rose." That's what I love about travel; the memories and effects of your travels remain with you, even when you are back at home. Thinking of Paris is a reminder for me that life is beautiful wherever you are and that goals are within your reach if you work for them.

on: time

Today I was talking to someone about broken bones and mentioned how I had broken my leg. They asked how long ago that happened and I thought for a second and responded, "Seven years ago" (I was 15).

It's slightly mind-boggling to think that I'm old enough for a major life event (that I remember and that impacted me in a significant way) to have happened seven years ago.

And then later today, I found some letters written to me two summers ago by Melissa. I laughed as I read through them, looking back on the time when we were just "periodicals besties" on our way to becoming real besties.

It's interesting to look back and remember so clearly how things used to be at a specific moment in time versus how they are now, to juxtapose the past with the present; in retrospect it is so easy to see the paths that brought you to where you are now, the decisions and factors and happenings that played a part. It's easier to see the direction of your life looking back. And I think this makes it easier to go forward with faith that the future will continue with such direction and purpose.



One the note of seven years, the song of the same name by Norah Jones is one of my favorites.

on: plants, gardens, and greenhouses

Yesterday I set up the beginnings/most of my balcony garden. There is something so viscerally and deeply satisfying to me about plants and working with plants, and I've been trying to pinpoint why that is.

I think it is partly due to my upbringing in the garden state, in a rural area that is heavily wooded in some areas and rolling farmland in others. And it is in part due to my family heritage of farming. My grandparents own a pumpkin farm where I spent many a summer hoeing pumpkins. My dad worked in agriculture for much of my life, so when we were little, my sisters and I would accompany him when he inspected fields. When I worked on a research farm, it was at times miserable working hard in the heat and humidity. And yet, when I worked at the farm and in a department store concurrently, I found the research farm so much more fulfilling. Agriculture is absolutely essential to our lives, so while it was hard work, I was invested in the greater purpose that I saw.

Growing a balcony garden, while quaint and satisfying in a domestic sense, ties back to these threads of my identity. And I think that is part of what has generated my excitement for this goal: a love for plants founded in my experiences and my heritage.

And while walking around Lowe's gardening section tracking down various herbs (and succulents, just because I love them), I remembered how much I love greenhouses. There was a certain familiarity, the slight humidity and smell of plants and earth. I love these images of greenhouses; they evoke a certain timelessness that I love. And so architecture, too, has a tie to this love of plants.

on: yellow flowers.

I don't think it's an accident than many early spring flowers—namely daffodils and forsythia—are yellow; we all need a little sunshine after a dark and dreary winter.

on: reading

This morning I was in the bookstore on campus doing two things I had no business doing: purchasing candy and browsing the bookshelves.

I only say that I had no business doing these things because I also had a test I needed to be studying for. As the test has since been studied for and taken, I don't regret those distracted minutes.

I have a thing for essays lately. It may have something to do with recently reading this book and my love for the NYTimes. As much of the news lately is related to American election politics (a topic which quickly overwhelms me), I end up perusing the Times design features or reading essays like this one.

And so this morning I stood in front of the shelves of essays in the bookstore, flipped through several collections, and added these two to my list of books to read. Despite the amount of reading I consistently have for school, I'm trying to continue reading for personal pleasure, because it is just that: a pleasure.

on: beauty and utility.

"It is a beautiful occupation. And since it is beautiful, it is truly useful." –Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince, p. 57

Between all of my classes related to culture and history—history of interior design and architecture, Italian civilization, and a film class—I'm saturated every day with ideas and concepts and reminders of beautiful masterpieces in the world around me. What would our world be without these things? I think of the joy that I derive from reading books, studying design, pondering works of art, listening to music, and noticing architecture. And while sometimes these professions are treated jokingly (although even I have to admit that is a little funny), they are important because they make our world a more beautiful place.

"The desire to create is one of the deepest yearnings of the human soul." –President Dieter F. Uchtdorf (in this talk, one of my favorites). I don't think we can underestimate or devalue that.

on: Thanksgiving

"[And now, my beloved brethren, I desire] that ye contend no more against the Holy Ghost, but that ye receive it, and take upon you the name of Christ; that ye humble yourselves even to the dust, and worship God, in whatsoever place ye may be in, in spirit and in truth; and that ye live in thanksgiving daily, for the many mercies and blessings which he doth bestow upon you." —Alma 34:38

I love this three-way division of this verse, as indicated by the semicolons; it shows me that living with gratitude in our hearts, while seemingly simple, is yet an integral part of living the gospel.

on wearing too much black

"Black is a sophisticated and slimming color." -my sister and her friend's mantra.

i.e., you can never wear too much of it.

on: courage. some bilingual thoughts.

Vi faccio paragonare:
"Per la paura di morire ogni giorno affrontavano la morte." —Sciascia, Il giorno della civetta, p. 29

verso:
"Ora, essi non avevano mai combattuto, tuttavia non temevano la morte; e pensavano più alla libertà dei loro padri che alla loro vita; sì, le loro madri avevano loro insegnato che, se non avessero dubitato, Dio li avrebbe liberati." —Alma 56:47

(Avete notato la frase ipotetica alla fine di quel versetto? Eccola: "se non avessero dubitato, Dio li avrebbe liberati." È una frase ipotetica, però è anche un'idea che dovremmo ricordare ogni giorno quando ci confrontiamo con le difficoltà della vita.)

Il contrasto tra queste due frasi ed i personaggi che sono descritti è grandissimo. Il coraggio viene mostrato dai giovani in modo umile, poiché dimostrano la loro dipendenza sul Signore, verso i mafiosi nel libro che uccidono e sistemano vari modi per ritenere i loro segreti cattivi.

___________________________________________________________________


For my Italian writing class, we have weekly journal entries due, so as to better our writing by writing frequently. I must admit that as I wrote similar journals in Siena, I definitely noticed improvement in my writing as my speaking improved.

Here's a translation of the above excerpt. The first quote comes from a romanzo giallo (crime novel) about the Sicilian mafia that takes place shortly after WWII that we've just started reading in my other Italian class.

Please compare this:
"For the fear of dying, every day they confronted death." —Sciascia, Il giorno della civetta, p. 29

with this:
"Now they never had fought, yet they did not fear death; and they did think more upon the liberty of their fathers than they did upon their lives; yea, they had been taught by their mothers, that if they did not doubt, God would deliver them."  —Alma 56:47

(In the Italian translation, the last part reads in one of the common forms of a hypothetical phrase which I'd recently reviewed in class: "if they did not doubt, God would deliver them." I was appreciating the unsought grammar review, but beyond that, I think this is something we should remember every day as we confront life's little battles.)

The contrast between these two quotes and the people they describe is enormous. Humble courage is shown by the valiant young men in the Book of Mormon in their dependence upon the Lord, versus the mafia characters in the book who kill and plan and scheme to hide their evil secrets.

It's interesting how something which from the surface might seem like less courageous is actually more so; this idea puts so many things in perspective, about what is important and what is not.

on: the hug

"It's like an emotional Heimlich. Someone puts their arms around you and they give you a squeeze and all your fear and anxiety come shooting out of your mouth in a big wet wad and you can breath again." -Charlotte Charles

on: writing

“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection.”  Anais Nin

My friends here in Italy tease me for my meticulous journal writing. "Liz, are you writing a novel?" No... but I think in details. Details stand out to me and mark an experience as memorable and lasting.

All along, I have been writing details of my experiences in Italy, little things that I notice and observe and want to remember, funny things that my friends say, Italian conversations that I have or overhear on the bus and in the streets of Siena. Sometimes it's tedious, but I know that later I'll be happy that I spent a few afternoons sitting on a shady park bench writing when I needed to catch up.

But now, as my last few days in Italy are coming to a close, I keep falling farther and farther behind. This last week has been full of hard moments, perfect moments, moments I never want to forget. But I'm scared I will forget them, because I can't bring myself to sit down and write them. And so it is becoming a blur. A wonderful, beautiful, bittersweet blur.

on: the Palio (an explanation)

Although one can easily Google "Siena Palio" to learn more about it, I realize I've never actually explained it on this blog. I talk and write about the Palio as if it's common knowledge; I realize that it is not, so here is a somewhat detailed/lengthy/specific/what-have-you description of the Palio and what the hype is about. The hype is merited.

It's a rather unique tradition, and I don't think a watered-down version portrays as powerfully the importance and significance of the Palio. Don't feel obligated to read all of this, but I personally find it fascinating. After learning so much about it, living in Siena, and most recently seeing it firsthand, I'm a little obsessed.

To put it simply, the Palio of Siena is a horse race. But that makes this tradition sound trite and simple, two things it definitely is not. There are so many peculiarities and intricacies involved, so if you look at it and think, "Oh, it's just a horse race," you miss the entire point.

Siena is a city of medieval origin, and the contrade (quarters/sections of the city) evolved from military rivalries in those times. The sections of the city changed over time as groups conquered or allied with one another. Today there are 17 contrade, each with their own fountain, church, and museum. This map shows the divisions of the city (the outskirts of Siena are also included in the contrade, though they are not included on this map).

(source)

Every contrada has community programs ranging from theater groups to soccer teams for the kids. In this way, each contrada functions as a mini-community within Siena, and the type of infrastructure this creates for the city is rather incredible and so very beneficial. Throughout the year, and more frequently during the week of the Palio, the contrade hold dinners for the members, with tables set up in the streets of the contrada neighborhood.

The event itself is a horse race around the main piazza (P. del Campo) in Siena. The word palio refers to the prize banner presented to the winning contrada, though the bigger prize is the prestige that winning brings them.

There are two Palio events each year—one in July and another in August. Of the 17 total, 10 contrade race. The seven contrade who did not participate in the most recent Palio are automatically guaranteed a slot in the next Palio; the other three are chosen at random. Thus, every contrada runs in a least one Palio each year, and there are a select handful that race in both.

(source)

The race takes place in the Piazza del Campo, the only neutral area in a city of territorial contrade. Dirt is brought in and packed down in the grey area circling the piazza to form the course. The week of the Palio is filled with numerous contrada parades, trial runs in the Campo, and excitement for the Palio in general, as the streets of Siena are filled with the Senese people proudly wearing their contrada flags.

The horses are also selected in the days leading up to the Palio, which is an important aspect of the race. The jockeys are from all over Italy (not necessarily Siena), and while the winning jockey is paid a nice stipend (one year, the winning Torre jockey was paid an amount equivalent to several million American dollars!), the contrade often raise money to pay off other jockeys (ethically dubious...and also somewhat indicative of how big of a deal the Palio is).

(source)

The race itself is a bit perilous—there are several tight curves and the jockeys ride bareback, so it is not unusual for them to fall during the race. If their horses keep running, a horse with no rider can still win the Palio!

The line-up is decided randomly, after which nine of the horses line up in order. The last horse stands a few feet behind, and that jockey decides when the race starts. When he rushes forward, the rope falls and the race begins! Because the horses are so jittery and filled with adrenaline, there are often several false starts. After hours of standing in the piazza and watching the parades, the start can often take a while, after which the race is over in less than two minutes.

Although the race itself lasts less than two minutes, the ceremony associated with it is a reflection of the city's proud history and how it continues; the Palio has gone on for hundreds of years, and it's still going strong.

Along with the Palio's medieval beginnings and influence (the medieval costumes for the parades, for one thing), I love seeing the modern influences on the Palio. One year Tartuca reproduced this album cover on the cover of their post-Palio magazine. That's just one example, but it shows how the Senese people reinterpret their tradition every year.

I've come to love these contrade, to become surprisingly opinionated about them, and to understand Siena by nature of understanding the Palio; my love for this city is inextricably connected with a love for the Palio. Siena was chaos yesterday, but a joyous chaos, and we loved getting wrapped up in it and celebrating this incredible tradition.

on waiting: sbrighiamoci!

Last weekend during our return trip from le Cinque Terre, we got off our train in Empoli, dashed inside the station, and checked the orario di partenze (the timetable for departures). We saw that a train to Siena was leaving an hour before the one we'd intended to take, and someone yelled "BINARIO CINQUE, RUN!" All eight of us raced down the stairs—backpacks flailing wildly behind us and all—on through the subway, "Sbrighiamoci!" (hurry!) and up another flight of stairs, only to see that the train had just left not three minutes earlier.

This was one of our funnier encounters with Italian public transportation.

We're still learning to be patient. And we're learning how to better use our time wisely, since we have lots of it as we sit and wait.

But in all of this, even our moments of frustration or confusion (such as when a bus I wave down drives right by even though it's supposedly scheduled to stop), my grandpa's adage rings true: a third class ride is better than a first class walk.

Though in this case, it would be a second class ride (on the train).

on stockpiling.

Lately I’ve been stockpiling sundry items, such as birthday candy and sundresses.

The former in preparation for finals week (read this), the latter in anticipation of a summer to be spent in Italy.

I think that stockpiling is almost always a good idea, because you’ll thank yourself later. It’s like saving for a rainy day, just not in a monetary sense. And it’s also an exercise in delayed gratification.

on trees and architecture

(my front yard in New Jersey)

I'm in an Italian conversation class and one of the things we discussed in class this week was living in the countryside versus living in a city. I'm the most indecisive person on the planet and couldn't choose between the two, but when we all voted, I went with country over city (my rural south Jersey upbringing won out).

A large element in my indecision is a toss-up between my love of architecture and of trees. That may seem like a ridiculous comparison, but I think there is truth in it. In a city, you have a far greater concentration of architectural works as opposed to a rural area. But in a rural area, there are trees (or mountains!).

Both of these things are sources of inspiration for me. I love man-made architectural forms and I love seeing an architect's interpretation of an idea in a physical sense. Architecture affects so many other facets of life, because we live our lives in it. Likewise, I am awed by nature and the creation of so many incredible things in this world. I'm not the only one; many of my favorite architects and designers found much of their inspiration in nature—Alvar Aalto and Frank Lloyd Wright are some notable examples.

(Bryant Park in Manhattan)

These two very different things seem innately related to me, so while most people can easily decide city or country, I have a harder time since I really am torn over the issue. I guess that isn't necessarily a bad thing, it's just typical me, being typically indecisive.
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