Hello friends,
I’ve been in a funk lately. I’m not depressed, but I’m feeling a little stuck and uninspired. The idea of writing to you is overwhelming because I feel like I have nothing to say. This isn’t new for me or for anyone else. But I made a commitment to talk to you every week, so I’m here typing and deleting and typing and deleting as I try to come up with something inspiring or entertaining or poetic. Join me as I flounder around for a bit.
Many of you will remember how much quicksand we were exposed to in movies and TV as kids. It was everywhere. It felt like a vat of the stuff could open up at any time and swallow you whole. Growing up in Florida—where sand and swamps are literally everywhere—seemed at times like a death trap. Would I know if I was about to enter the earth’s hungry maw, or would it sneak up on me? Would I have time to escape? Would anyone be able to help me?
The first thing that comes to mind when I remember that aspect of childhood is The Neverending Story. Atreyu and his horse Artax must cross the Swamp of Sadness in search of a cure for the Childlike Empress. Spoiler alert: Artax dies. The scene is devastating enough for a child. Atreyu’s beloved horse and friend sinks into the swamp, and Atreyu can’t do anything to stop it. It becomes even worse as an adult when you realize the Swamp of Sadness is a metaphor for depression. No matter how hard Atreyu pulls on Artax’s reins, he isn’t strong enough to rescue his horse. No matter how loud he yells and begs Artax not to give in to the sadness, Atreyu ultimately has no control. He watches helplessly as his friend drowns.
Thankfully, I am not sinking into despair. It’s more like I keep losing my shoes in the muck, which is not exactly life-threatening but is still pretty fucking annoying. It’s like my shoes are actually big heavy boots with tons of laces, and every time they get sucked off my feet, I have to redo the whole set of laces again. It’s time-consuming and exhausting, leaving me with little energy to make my way to the other side.
There’s no good way to wrap this up. After writing all of this, I seem to have lost my shoe again. Please bear with me while I lace it back up.
Until next time,
Yardena
Weekend Potpourri
Currently on repeat
My friend Huw, from the STSC, wrote a lovely ode to his town of Wrexham now that it’s become famous. If you’ve recently started watching Wrexham soccer (or football, depending on what side of the pond you’re on), I think you’ll enjoy Huw’s piece. Give it a read.
A synesthete and a neuroscientist provide some insight into the cultural elements of synesthesia.
Thanks for reading. This edition of Letters on Being is free, but if you feel like giving me a little extra support, please consider upgrading to a paid subscription. In the meantime, are you stuck right now? Let’s talk about it.
Very well said. Been there, and getting unstuck is no small feat
This scene was so devastating as a kid. Last night, my daughter asked if quicksand was real and I just said no. Because, is it? I really don't know and the odds of getting stuck in actual quick sand is minimal. Not something to actually worry about imo.