The surprising benefit of being bereft & a free gift
Today we think and write about the pleasures of worrying that pleasures don't last.
For me, and maybe for you too, the first feeling I have when I perceive something great— looking out over the wildest part of the ranch where we live, fleetingly liking something about myself in the mirror, smelling citrus blossoms in winter, watching a molten sunset over the ocean, or being enveloped by music at a live show—- is anticipatory sadness for the moment I will no longer be in the presence of this goodness. My processing of awe or wonder or delight is inextricable from my fear of loss (my inner voice whispering that the ranch will burn down again, that my newly-formed jowls will deepen like a hound dog’s and I will, for this dumb reason, become unloveable, that the water we use to irrigate the citrus will run out, that…that…that..).
The only form of pleasure I know is bittersweetness, a 50/50 cocktail of delight and worry, or on my best days— of joy and also acknowledgement that everything changes. Maybe I inherited this (along with my curly hair) from a long line of people who believe that one should always keep one eye open for danger. Or maybe I am this way because I was raised by a dad who was dying most of my childhood and adolescence, and therefore any great thing came along with the feeling that eventually we’d need to appreciate it without him. Whatever the case, I know I’m not alone. And that’s why this week we’re going to think a bit about bittersweetness— the good-bad, the happy-sad. I hope we will write our way to a place where we find pleasure all the better precisely because it cannot last.
As always, set a timer for seven minutes. You can write for longer if you get inspired, but that is not the assignment here. If you can, put your phone in airplane mode and say out loud, before you begin “I am very good at writing but also that is not the point here.” (Note: I know this sounds cheesy but it works, even if you feel dumb saying it out loud and I promise, you will.) Choose one of these or do all three. If you’d like, you can post your response in the comments section or on Instagram by tagging @laurel_braitman.
Make a list of every ephemeral pleasure you have ever experienced and do a line break between each. Pleasure here can be interpreted any way you like and may include smells, glances, sounds, snippets of conversation, tastes, specific places at specific moments in time, interactions (lasting seconds or hours or days/weeks), epiphanies, items of clothing that felt a certain way, specific types of light in very specific places at specific moments, a certain emotional experience, a way you felt or looked to yourself, and any combination of the above…you get the idea. Be precise with your descriptions, lean on your physical senses if you feel stuck, don’t think too hard about it, don’t edit as you go along, and don’t stop writing till the timer goes off.
Describe a moment in which you were acutely aware that a something wonderful you were experiencing was not going to last. Bring us into this scene as if you were describing a moment in a film. Use your senses, be bold and include dialogue if that feels right. If you’re a fiction writer, write this as fiction….it can take place in a barn or on a spaceship, in an airport security line or an ICU, in a…or….
Describe a moment in which you were surprised by pleasure, when it seemed to descend out of nowhere and knock you sideways. Write this in the present tense and in the first person. Remember, you are already good at this.
I made a little gift for anyone who— daringly, kindly, oh-so-generously—pre-orders my book What Looks Like Bravery. All you have to do is a take a screenshot and upload it here and you will get a little thing I made for you about how to show up for someone going through something sh*tty. Which is, honestly, all of us, at one time or another.
Some other good things to love:
Saddle Up and Read is a marvelous organization run by Caitlin Gooch that combines horses with the promotion of literacy and the diversification of books in school libraries. Support them. And trust me when I tell you that their instagram feed is the mental health boost you didn’t know you needed.
How to Stop the War Against Yourself: This episode of Dan Harris’s podcast in which he talks to meditation teacher Tara Brach. I kept taking notes.
Popcorn for dinner: Especially this popcorn, which is the only kind I’ve ever made where ALL THE KERNELS pop. I mix fresh lemon juice and melted butter together and pour that all over, then toss with parmesan cheese or nutritional yeast. Sometimes I add buffalo hot sauce too. You will be thirsty for the next three days. It will be worth it.
We have a few upcoming writing workshops for healthcare professionals (check out Writing Medicine for more info on dates and to sign up) and also BREAKING NEWS! we are now offering two new workshops open to everyone on April 24, 2023 and May 31, 2023. More information here.