The blood and the whale
Dear friends,
I was in the corner of the gallery, looking at the model of the squid and the whale with a friend, about to launch into my current career story for the 1,000th time when I heard a scream.
“His brother head-butted him,” said one of the women who had gathered around my son, crouched on the ground, blood pouring from his nose. I knelt on the floor of the Irma and Paul Milstein Family Hall of Ocean Life, right below the enormous blue whale hanging from the ceiling, and tossed the contents of my bag onto the ground, searching for tissues in the dark.
I pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and used it, along with my hands, to catch the blood until a wad of toilet paper appeared and I could absorb the flow, wipe his face, wipe my hands.
We found the bathroom and washed up. His brother was brooding by the stairs, angry because he was certain he’d get in trouble. Then the bloody-nosed brother said to the brooding brother, “it’s ok to be mad.” I’m not sure what he meant, precisely, but it was a nice gesture nonetheless.
Fifteen minutes later, my kids were walking down the street together, cackling over a poop joke, like one hadn’t just bashed the other in the face and caused him to bleed all over himself in the American Museum of Natural History in New York.
I sat here this morning, thinking about what it means that sometimes kids can move so seamlessly from a hard moment to an easy one. That they are more resilient, more flexible than adults? That they flow more easily to what feels good to them? Ok, but - so what? What’s the takeaway? Unclear.
And then I read a line in a story where a writer was working on a profile of Mr. Rogers, trying to figure out who Mr. Rogers was, when he realized that “the doing is the thing we should be paying attention to.”
Kids are good at analyzing less and doing more, but we’re all out here doing things.
When a boy tries to make his brother feel better in a bad moment, he’s doing something. When he laughs and jokes instead of staying upset - doing something.
When a grown man walks out of a classroom midway through the session, with no explanation and no parting words (this happened in a class I taught last night), he’s doing something.
When we say yes to a project or event that makes us feel squirmy and out of our depths, we’re doing something.
And so on. This way of making meaning is very straightforward and I like it: Keep doing (good) things. What did Annie Dillard say? “How we spend our days, is, of course, how we spend our lives.”
CARE FOR: In this section, I highlight stuff that gets me thinking about the forms and functions of care and how we express it. Have something you want to share? Tell me!
OURSELVES: I’m very skeptical about the idea that entrepreneurship can be a spiritual journey so my bullshit meter almost broke when I read this.
EACH OTHER: Can a startup actually solve burnout? Maybe by changing its culture, but that might be a thing workers need to push for.
THE PLANET: A few weeks ago I wondered what could happen if we made a bet on farmers as a hedge against climate change, but it seems that in fact, finance is betting against them. I remain amazed by how farmers and food producers keep adapting to changes that are thrown their way.
WE ALL GOTTA EAT: It’s true. Here’s one thing I’m cooking these days:
Thanks for sending along your ideas! Keep them coming and I’ll be back when I’ve actually made something worth sharing. In the meantime, I’m intrigued by these recipes, either for dinner or for the impending holidays (which reminds me, the final episode of the Made Fresh podcast season landed this week, all about parties and holiday feelings - give it a listen):
Doctored canned cranberry sauce, for Friendsgiving.
Simple AF apple tart from Martha Stewart
Enjoy the weekend, cook something good for me.
XO
Leigh