Three Things #1
I consume a lot of things that never make it into my writing. I also collect snippets in notebooks: poems, quotes, conversations, observations that might someday become essays, and odds and ends from daily life.
Many of them aren’t big enough to turn into essays, but they still feel worth sharing.
So I’m trying a new weekly feature: Three Things.
Here are this week’s.
1. Podcast I can’t stop thinking about:
Tom Nash on anti-fragility.
At age 19 Tom Nash came down with a rare bacterial infection that left him a quadruple amputee. In this chat with Simon Sinek, he discusses agency, resilience, support networks, and what it means to become anti-fragile in the face of adversity.
What especially stood out to me (around minute 16) is his “three characters for navigating adversity” framework: the artist, the author, and the alchemist. The artist changes how they see the situation, the author chooses what happens next, and the alchemist turns the wound into fuel. It’s so smart, practical, and simple that I haven’t stopped thinking about it for weeks now.
2. Poem that’s been on my mind:
Autobiography in Five Short Chapters
By Portia Nelson
I
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in.
I am lost … I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes me forever to find a way out.
II
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place
but, it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.
III
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in … it’s a habit.
my eyes are open
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.
IV
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
V
I walk down another street.
3. A tiny delight:
Speaking of walking down streets…
I ran into my neighbor Marceci as I was walking my dog yesterday. I’ll admit that I’ve taken to avoiding her at times, but she is in her 80s with dementia, and somewhat prone to holding me hostage with nonsensical conversation.
She was standing on the street, waiting for her daughter to back the car out of the driveway, and greeted me cheerfully. She loves dogs, and Titan went in for some pets. She was surprisingly lucid and chipper, asking about his breed, and the little black freckles you can see through his white fur.
“So nice talking to you!” she said, as her daughter pulled the car up. “What’s your name again?”
“Likewise,” I replied. “I’m Olivia.”
She turned, then changed her mind. She raised an eyebrow at me. “What’s MY name?” she shot back.
“Marceci.”
A smile flashed across her face and she practically vibrated in glee, fists tucked under her chin. Her childlike joy at being known did something to me. I’m not sure what yet, but I like it.
Thanks for reading! If you’ve come across something interesting this week, please tell me about it in the comments.
See you next Tuesday with three more things.
Love,
Olivia