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parts and pieces
So Maggie Rogers joined substack, and I don’t know why it has meant more to me than other people joining substack, but this post felt refreshingly legit, in the way that this video from ten years ago (!), that launched her, was also just legit…and needless to say, I’m in a swirl of her music again in a way that I haven’t been in a while and it’s pure girlhood.
It feels akin to watching Jessie Buckley and crying, and watching the Eras Tour and crying, and watching Simone Biles and crying, and watching Greta Gerwig’s Little Women and crying - it’s like these bursts of super artistic femininity and strength and power that meet me at moments and leave me unearthed.
Maggie wrote, in regard to her going back and tracing the beginning of her career, “What that really did for me is debunk the myth that I was better at the start of my career when I was all young confidence and blind instinct. The albums are great, and I’m so proud of them, but I’m 100% clear that I’m at my best right now. And there’s something really exciting about silencing the noise of nostalgia.”
Today is my birthday, and for the past several years I’ve felt like I should be turning older than I actually am. Not in a flattering way - like, oh how mature. No, I think I just feel old. 😂 And I feel it most in these moments of recognition, when somebody else’s art reflects one version of myself back to another. Or, when I see someone doing something so authentically that it rearranges me. I feel old in my responsibilities, and young when I think about what I still want to make. And while I used to think the overflowing emotion was nostalgia, or a sort of grief, I think it’s actually the feeling of being young-old all at once. The feeling of a ticking clock, and unfinished business. And not having a lot of clarity on what that business even looks like, but knowing - in my being - that I’m in a better place to make it. This juxtaposed with the fact that through motherhood, I’ve made the best things I’m ever going to make. So it’s also THAT. My greatest works living alongside me in human form, watching me fail over and over again even though my greatest desire is to not fuck that up, while simultaneously being driven to put the other parts of me out there, and fumbling within the limited space I have to make it all happen.
I loved one thing for a long time, and was validated for that one thing, and to leave that for a world of many loves and little validation… I’m still learning (almost 8 years later) how to live in the expanse of that.
It reminds me of running. Which…I just ran for the first time in 5 months and holyyyy buckets that was humbling, too. I feel like I’ve said this before somewhere but anytime I run, it’s like all the versions of me that have ever gone running, and all the places I’ve ever run, and all the people I’ve ever run with, are running alongside me.
I think that’s what happens when things feel true, too. When we can name something as authentic, it’s not just honesty we’re talking about - it’s familiarity, and the bending and transcending of time. There’s a lot of talk about presence but when I’m the most present, it’s not singular. It’s not “the moment.” It’s a feeling of many moments colliding and aligning all at once, and a deep knowing that I’m not alone there.
Birthdays are that for me, too.
Thank you for reading my words and being in my life. To the many meeting, and continuing on.