Hello Reader!
This week, I’ve paused for breath—figuratively and in a literal experiment. I set a timer for every 15 minutes to take two breaths—no expectations, just a moment to be present with my body. I then practice an inner smile, as I describe in Naked in the Now, noticing the ease and simple happiness of being alive.
Moments of Awe
In addition to the scheduled timer breaks, I’ve tuned into unexpected, take-your-breath-away moments of awe—a golden orange moonrise with a lunar eclipse bite and a stunning double rainbow that appeared over the Calico Basin mountains one rainy morning—moments that left me feeling nourished.
There’s something about moments like these that remind us to stop, truly see the world, and embrace the poetry of being human.
Life’s beauty is fleeting, like sand slipping through our fingers, but being fully present during those moments is like holding the beauty for just a breath longer. It’s as if the universe is reminding us to be like a cat before a mousehole—attentive, ready to let the magic of the present seep into our being.
Living the Questions
So often, we search for meaning—looking for purpose, reasons, or answers. But what if, as Rilke suggests, the point is to value something more than the answers—to value the process of living itself?
Rilke writes, in Letters to a Young Poet, “Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”
Our minds naturally strive to make sense of things, to analyze and create stories. But I’ve found that the real magic often lies in simply living with the questions—letting them unfold without forcing them into solutions.
I’ve been practicing resting in the unknown in my morning meditation. Rather than trying to figure everything out, I’m learning to allow the questions to move me. Like the balanced days and nights of the Autumn equinox, sitting with the questions also creates a balance—between dark and light, between the tendency to seek resolution and the peace of accepting mystery.
Reflections from Memoirs
I’m reading two memoirs that explore impermanence and inner exploration. Cory Richards’ The Color of Everything blends his exhilarating adventures in awe-inspiring landscapes with the stark honesty of his inner struggles. Cory is a renowned climber and National Geographic photographer, who has struggled his whole life with what he calls a “darkness within.” He captures the delicate balance between beauty and darkness, vitality and chaos—a dance many know all too well.
In Carol Radziwill’s What Remains, we see another side of that razor’s edge that intertwines love, loss, and destiny. Carole Radziwill, a working-class girl turned award-winning TV producer, marries Anthony Radziwill, JFK Jr.’s cousin, only to face the heartbreak of his cancer diagnosis. As they cope with Anthony’s illness, tragedy strikes when their close friends, JFK Jr. and Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy, die in a plane crash just weeks before Anthony’s death. What Remains “gets at the essence of what matters,” wrote Oprah Winfrey. “Friendship, compassion, destiny.”
These memoirs resonate deeply with me as I reflect on my own encounters with life’s mysteries.
Friendship, Compassion, and Destiny
This week, I’ve been supporting a dear friend navigating the raw aftermath of a divorce and near financial ruin. It’s easy to think of such situations in terms of “should haves” or missed opportunities, but what strikes me is her unwavering ability to find joy in small things—like our walks through the Red Rock mountains, her sanctuary.
In these moments, I see reflections of life’s beauty and fleeting nature, much like a moonrise or a rainbow.
And, the unknown does not have to portend something bad. This morning, we discovered a caretaker position opening up in her cherished Calico Basin—a serendipitous opportunity that brings hope and suggests a touch of destiny.
Together, as we go through boxes we ponder what it means to embrace life not as a task to manage, but as a mystery to experience.
Listening to Our Inner Voices
During times of trouble, we may be prone to listening to berating inner voices admonishing us in some way. One question I’ve been sitting with this week is: What voices am I listening to? Cheri Huber teaches that if the voices inside aren’t ones of kindness and compassion, they aren’t our true selves.
How often do we let ego or negativity take the lead in our internal dialogue? I’m learning to tune out the neon distractions and turn inward toward a quieter, kinder voice of presence—okay with what is, yet able to meet whatever comes.
Humanity, Art, and AI
Lately, I’ve also been reflecting on the rise of AI, especially as a writer and artist. There’s something deeply unsettling about the idea of machines creating art or writing stories. AI can collect data and streamline tasks (and I appreciate its value in helping me do marketing, for instance). Nonetheless, though it can help wordsmith, it can’t authentically capture the essence of the lived human experience—the beauty, struggles, and raw, messy reality of life—because it hasn’t embodied those experiences.
As Sam Hurley says in his spoken word piece, “Do not go quiet—Write against the machine—Make art against the dying of the light.”
In a world increasingly dominated by technology, our art, stories, and humanity become acts of resistance. They remind us that our lived experiences, with all their imperfections, are irreplaceable.
Living the Poetry of Life
So, how does this mishmash week of experiences and reflections come together? I like to think of it as “living the poetry of life.”
Here’s what I’m practicing this week:
- Setting a timer every 15 minutes
- Closing my eyes
- Tuning into my felt sense of being
I allow an inner smile to form as a reminder that this moment of paying attention is poetry.
Each breath, every moonrise or rainbow, has the power to remind me of life’s impermanence and awe-inspiring beauty. These fleeting moments encapsulate what it means to be fully alive.
I encourage you to live the questions as we move through our days. Take in the beauty around you, breathe deeply, and rest in the unknown, knowing that you’ll one day look back and realize you’ve lived your way into the answers.
Good News!
Upcoming Offerings
- Write Now Mind – October 2024 – 5-week session starting September 29. There’s still plenty of time to join! Email if you are interested.
- Las Vegas Book Fest – October 19, 2024 My friend Kat and I will make a special appearance at the Las Vegas Book Fest! If you’re attending, come find us—we’ll be the ones wearing pink and orange feathers and sequins, offering juicy practices.
A Writer’s Plea
Please leave a review for Naked in the Now (even if it is only a star-rating!) My goal is to get 50 before my publisher takes it to Frankfurt!
If you haven’t picked up a copy, get one now!
Smiles,
https://marijkemccandless.com
Kirkus Reviews endorses Naked in the Now!
Unsubscribe | Update your profile | 113 Cherry St #92768, Seattle, WA 98104-2205
