Making peace with now
how we may celebrate the rituals of daily life
If you’ve been with me on this newsletter journey since the end of 2020, you know that I started out with a publication called Ronny. Toward the end of 2021, after successfully writing consistently for a year, I decided to transfer my operations to Substack. I did this for the community I saw budding here, and for the potential I saw to grow—not only by way of subscribers, but more importantly to foster the growth of my voice, amongst a village of many talented writers. I nested Ronny into On Holiday, and have been writing here ever since.
When I launched On Holiday, my mission was for it to be a place that inspires us to live more intentionally; taking nods from cultures around the world, and telling stories of the beauty that surrounds us. My hope was [and is] to inspire you with my own curiosity and awe for the planet that we live on— through colors, textures, food, rituals, dancing—through all the ways we as humans enjoy living. My ultimate dream is to write from places like Sweden and Trinidad and Tobago, experiencing daily Fika, and dressing to the nines for Carnival to share with all of you. And this desire has been burning even deeper in me since the lockdown.
I participated in a virtual temazcal ceremony last night. The invitation was somewhat ironic, because when the pandemic had just begun, I was gearing up to fly to Mexico City with my [then new] boyfriend. He had gifted me a Christmas present of tickets to Mexico City, and for my birthday, [coming up Feb 26, send me some love :) ] we would experience a temazcal ceremony just outside CDMX together. It was so special, and I was incredibly jazzed. I could not wait to start exploring the world with him, since travel was something that we have deeply in common. Our trip was scheduled for April 2020, so no surprise, we didn’t end up going. I was devastated, and looking back, I can say with emphatic confidence, that that was the beginning of my sticky and slimy descent into depression—my first lesson of true loss, and the start to an intimate relationship with grief.
We sat in our temazcal ceremony last night, over zoom. I lit a candle as instructed, brushed the smoke of a bundle of sage across my face and chest, and settled in. We blessed the directions, the sky, the earth, and our hearts. What ensued was more intense than I could anticipate. For about an hour and a half, we wailed, crying deep and sorrowful tears. We expressed our griefs, the heavy weight that sits between our collective bones. For once, I could truly taste and see the sorrow that has been keeping me up at night, the sadness and disappointment I knew existed beneath the layers of our society. It was as if the pretty flowers that had been planted in the field I admired were discovered to be, in fact, fake—and beneath them lay acres of unnourished soil. I put my head down on my desk, my body physically heavy from the grief. We sat in this virtual womb, and we felt for ourselves and for humanity. And in this container of true feeling, I felt realness. I felt what community should be.
Earlier that day, I took my first walk in a week. It was overcast, and I forced myself out of the cocoon of my home. I listened to an episode of Tara Brach’s podcast. In it, she and her guest spoke about the feeling of groundlessness and uncertainty that these past two years have offered us. How we’ve been in a holding pattern, not able to land—the promise of a “new normal” sitting just over the horizon of tomorrow, but tomorrow never comes. The point Tara makes is that we have to accept life as it is now. That we are still living, and we are in fact, not on our way to anything. This is hard to conceptualize, because we live in a society where we are always looking toward the hanging carrot. “Once I do this, I will feel happier” or, “once I finish that project, I will take better care of myself”. Once I get through the routine of this day, I will reward myself with rest and true celebration of life. Is this the way we want to live?
The thing is, if we keep on waiting for life to come back to something familiar, believing that right now is not real life, we are missing out on a lot. We are missing the chance to connect with our loved ones, and to be present with our friends. We are missing chances every day to celebrate life, and to find new ritual in the existence that is here in front of us, right now. Life is happening, and we have to go live it.
Although my north star for this newsletter still remains wanderlust-y [and I will certainly still be seeking out explorations], I hope you will enjoy the journey with me, as I navigate the experience of living life as it is now. As I come back into myself, and discover the beauty in routine, I hope to find and share joy. If I’ve learned anything from my roots abroad, it’s that life is simple, and happiness blossoms from the practice of enjoying the very moments in front of you—be it making tahdig, having a coffee to stay, enjoying a refreshing glass of water, or going for a walk to get some sun on your face.
So I ask you all, what is beautiful to you, right here and now?
p.s. This video brought me joy, so I thought I’d share :]