My dad had this saying in English that was transliterated from Korean: “is man is, go man go.” Not sure what this actually means in either language but it’s something my brother and I’ve been chuckling about lately.
My dad passed away on an unusually snowy morning a couple of weeks ago. My dad never had a bucket list of places to visit or things to do. There was no place he wanted to be other than wherever we were as a family. He wasn’t aware of all the hype around being mindful, nor was he anywhere near the bandwagon of meditation and yoga. But, my dad was someone who was supremely at peace with the here and now. This ideal of “being present” (that often seems so illusive) is something my dad had when he was with us. And we felt it viscerally, even when we were little. There was nothing else he would rather do than reading to us, playing with us or just listening to us. This is a rare privilege that only now I can fully marvel and appreciate.
As I struggle to gain normalcy in my life post-funeral and think about being productive again, I’m leaning on Oliver Burkeman’s advice (through his newsletter, The Imperfectionist). He talks about this idea of “just going to the shed”, which was first introduced by a Dutch writer and Zen monk, Paul Loomans. It’s about “developing a friendly relationship with that thing you don’t want to do, looking for some way to “go there” mentally or physically.” Loomans gives the example of a shed that needs clearing out.
[J]ust go into the shed. Don't do anything yet, just look around. Observe and take stock.
Sometimes that first step is all we need to get going and take action. It’s not that I don’t know how to prioritize or get shit done. It’s just that there are things I plain don’t want to do. Like, clearing out my inbox and filing insurance claims. Like, anything tax-related.
So, I’m starting to peek into my large, very messy shed. Just looking. I might actually step into it in a couple of weeks. But, for now, I’m just taking a quick look and then closing the door. That already feels much better than the low-lying dread and denial that have been accompanying me for weeks. I love this self-serving, no-pressure concept.
For my Dream Box:
💧 Covenant of Water: I don’t have the words to describe how exquisite this book is. Anyone who read his previous book, Cutting for Stone, will know what an engaging and beautiful storyteller Verghese is. This latest masterpiece gifts you an elegant glimpse into to the early 1900s Kerala, India. It’s a bit of a tome at over 700 pages, but I’m taking my time and savoring every word because I don’t want this book to finish.
🧥 Cotswold Jacket: I’ve spent the last couple of years trying to find my “style” if I can call it that. My simplistic thinking is, now that I’m 50, I’ll come up with a smart and reliable set of outfits that I can wear interchangeably each season (kind of like the black turtlenecks a la Steve Jobs / Elizabeth Holmes). Isn’t that what the French women do, or did I imagine that? I think this jacket might make the cut for me (if and when it goes on sale).
💡 book light: My usual excuse for aimlessly scrolling through my NYTimes app in bed instead of reading at night is that I don’t have a good reading light (it’s not bright enough for me yet it’s too bright for my sleeping husband next to me). This one I found has been a game changer. It’s lightweight and the brightness hones in on the pages I’m reading without disturbing anyone next to me. And it costs just about the same as my neurotically-customized Starbucks coffee.
🐿️ Eleven Madison Park Granola: My dear friend Anna showed me how to make her delicious and super easy granola this past summer. Leave it to me to mess up a perfect recipe - I just can’t get it to not burn in the oven. Thankfully, I found this awesome substitute recipe that’s as yummy and easy as Anna’s. (gift link)
Your sharing deeply touched my heart. The way you've woven your dad's serene presence and philosophy into the fabric of your current struggles offers both a tender remembrance and a guiding light. Your dad's simple, yet profound approach to life—finding contentment and joy in being with loved ones, and your process of navigating grief through the wisdom of 'just going to the shed'—resonates deeply. It's a poignant reminder of the strength found in cherishing memories and the gentle steps we can take towards healing. Thank you for opening up about your journey and offering such a heartfelt reflection. Your dad's legacy of peace and presence clearly lives on through your words. Sending you warmth and strength as you navigate this challenging time. Love you always. 💕
Kristina, thank you for your update and shared wisdom, always. Please know I hold you up in energy and light during this difficult moment. Your grace, intelligence and empathy continues to shine even in times of great difficulty.