Pursuing Lightness? A State of the Union of Sorts

Throughout most of my life, I'd say I struggle most with pursuing lightness. I want to be light and breezy. I'm a very grateful person, and try to act in an honest and kind way. I am immensely appreciative for the "little things" and joys, and I'm very blessed in so many areas. I can have a lot of fun.

But I'm also a pretty serious person. I've generally worried most—or had it proven to me—that I come off as "too intense," a side effect of being a deep thinker and largely tunnel-visioned on my ambitions and individual purpose. I am extremely disciplined, but also get too entrenched in the details at times. My perfectionism aspect does not quite serve me in that way, because the cognitive dissonance of a (fixable) problem or grandiose dream will tug at me, hungry.

I do, therefore I am. The details make me a better writer, but they can also drag me down if I let them.

I've gotten better at chasing and keeping lightness. When I traveled Europe significantly for the first time this September, I was proud of "not optimizing at the expense of experience" and that's a theme I've repeated throughout the fall.

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Don't optimize at the expense of experience. Don't get weighty by trying to consider everything at once.

Of course, during that time, I still faltered just because of how this year has gone. I got really sick directly after the wedding I traveled for while trying to submit my book edits, then had the unique misery of seeing my family and home braced for a hurricane I thought would wipe out my hometown. (Not fun.) October felt heavy, but I was still fulfilled by the trips I'd been on and the life I'd worked towards for so long, even though I felt like a less secure version of myself. Overall, I'm happy and lucky and trucking towards what I want.

Then November brought my peak work season (plus a constant edge of guilt and worry for being behind and majorly burnt out), grief over a loss, more book edits (demoralizing, to say the least—probably the straw that broke the camel's back), collective political anxiety and shock, and um—some vulnerability.

All in all: really started to doubt my awareness and capability in a way I don't normally, and overall longed to be a lighter, more nimble person. In some ways, I worried I was making myself subject to self-fulfilling prophecy by being too interior and self-conscious about how I was handling everything. My little existential problem of the fall of trying to be a lighter, more fluid person might just make me too fixated on it while I've been trying to synthesize this year—naming it in a way I can understand. The best of times, the worst of times. Trying to try less can be a bit tricky.

Lightness, baby, lightness.

As Nora Roberts said,

“The key to juggling is to know that some of the balls you have in the air are made of plastic & some are made of glass.”

We know from personality testing (and the limits thereof) that we are much more changeable than we give ourselves credit for. At any given time, we are absorbing a staggering amount from the people we are connected to, factors we can't even identify, and the anniversaries and memories and physiological patterns imprinted on us already. We are constantly lying to ourselves about how in control we are, and forcing elements into a cohesive narrative. Oh, and we're subject to evolution too.

And on the flip side, sometimes something good will happen that just...lifts all the weight off you all at once to sheer relief. And you didn't realize how much the burden on the backburner was weighing you down, how different life felt before, until it's suddenly gone. The control's back, the sky's brighter, you feel like "if you met me right now, you'd know an entirely different person." You're light in a way you couldn't have summoned independently.

So my question has recently become how much self-reflection is a good thing, really. I love to think about presence and visibility and autonomy and all that, but I don't want to go in circles over it as I am constantly revising what I think based on what I'm reading and who I'm listening to. We are constantly influencing our own moods.

the impact of recent reads

Because I know I struggle to stay light during intense do-or-die times of transition like this year (although I do consider myself a happy person overall), I do forge my life accordingly to balance me out in the ways I've learned help most.

Awe, experience, sensory pleasure—

I like to live in and discover beautiful places because awe is the single biggest driver for my personal well-being, and it's easier for me to cultivate lightness around nature. I love my hobbies and pursuits because flow states are my favorite. For me, my favorite places tend to be near water, but I can love and explore anywhere.

I know a lot of writers whose social worlds tend to get narrower and more interior when they draft, and the advice to befriend other writers who understand the strange, awful nuances of publishing is a good one. But I feel like I can only write because I have a lot of different experiences that allow me to dig out details and capture specific emotion and understand the sheer variety of people out there and the ways we all affect each other. I love having friends who remind me that nobody cares about these very niche processes (because sometimes hearing "nobody cares" is exactly what you need.)

My life has to stay big and open and tangled because otherwise, my writing would be repetitive and insular (based on my personal taste of narratives that "feel" distinctive, of course.) So I need to stay open to experience when I'm tempted to shut down or dial into the minimum.

That doesn't mean that I always need to be chasing novelty. Instead, I'm happiest when I can deepen an experience by learning more about it, which helps me to stay in the moment in a way that meditation has never accomplished; my meditation might be drawing or surfing, or something else that makes my mind go numb with the awareness of beauty. I'll always remember a poetry professor when I was fourteen or so reading the following Mary Oliver quote aloud:

“There is nothing so sensible as sensual inundation.”

Or from Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger,

“Listen, I don't care what you say about my race, creed, or religion, Fatty, but don't tell me I'm not sensitive to beauty. That's my Achilles' heel, and don't you forget it. To me, everything is beautiful. Show me a pink sunset, and I'm limp, by God. Anything. Peter Pan. Even before the curtain goes up at Peter Pan I'm a goddamn puddle of tears.”

I am much better than I've ever been about at least distinguishing between contexts and turning off my brain — building that work/life separation I've been trying to actually institute over the last year. I'm better about casting aside troubles for the day or the night or the set time being and recognizing when it's useful to ruminate and when it isn't. I'm sleeping better.

And gratitude for "the little things" is a big piece of that. I am constantly registering small pockets of bliss and details to absorb and appreciate. I'm just curious about the pursuit of lightness as an overall state of being, and whether I will ever get to a level of operating in a truly lighthearted way most of the time, or whether my "serious, solo" default will always be there.

happy list

Lightness, openness to others, dilution—

“The heaviest of burdens crushes us, we sink beneath it, it pins us to the ground. But in love poetry of every age, the woman longs to be weighed down by the man's body. The heaviest of burdens is therefore simultaneously an image of life's most intense fulfillment. The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become. Conversely, the absolute absence of burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant. What then shall we choose? Weight or lightness?”

(from The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera.)

The social aspect is a big motivator behind wanting to be a lighter person. I know I'm not as open to people as I should be; the walls are usually up, and I am independent to a fault. I'm quiet, wallflower, a little shy contextually. I don't like gossip or similar social currencies, and tend to be more of a floater in that I'm friends with lots of different types of people that would never necessarily mesh all together. I love my tight ride-or-die soul people, but may not see or talk to everyone frequently. But if I'm connected, I'm loyal, and I will care about someone's goodwill forever.

But I don't necessarily want to be seen as "too intense." I'm consistent, but I'm not always around—so it feels like it's harder to dilute that first impression of myself with a presence that shows more dynamism than just my serious side. I disappear frequently for creative projects or to self-regulate, so am not entirely conducive with the constant, daily proximity of a group message.

When it comes to social media and online presences and considering what feels true, I've held the opinion that who I am online is curated by who I am when I'm in the specific mood to post and share; it is a very real and honest version of myself, but it is not the only one.

I'm grateful I started writing on the blog when I was young so it always feels like a secure, helpful outlet of expression and I don't overthink being vulnerable on it. It's a book club, man! Books are such a good and easy way to connect with someone on what matters without actually having to be (uncomfortably) raw, so I'm sure more people feel like they know me by reading WLS than I expect.

Our flaw perceptually tends to be that we do tend to assume that someone's partial portrayal is the whole (hello, parasocial relationships) just because we might not see them enough in-person to think otherwise. So beyond your initial, close circle, can you ever actually see someone fully or do you run out of room in your head? We are actually much, much worse at reading people than we think. Studies also show that we are goddamn terrible at understanding the intent behind digital messages; we get text conversations wildly wrong.

I largely do not date because I know and love myself enough that I really don't need someone to fill a void (unfortunately I adore my own company and treasure my independence), and usually only start to romantically connect with someone after lots of time and trust. I used to think that meant I could only do a friends-to-lovers relationship. That doesn't mean I don't want to find my person, but rather that my interest is about the person once I meet them as opposed to the rush of dating itself. I seemingly never prioritize it enough over other elements of my life and time. Ya girl is so not meant for the apps. Then if I do like someone, well. Vulnerability sucks, and I have yet to figure out the execution of it.

I've been reading a lot about attachment styles and yikes. They definitely fall under the same "astrology for snobs" umbrella that personality tests do in that you'll pick and choose what fits your preferred image (if not working through it with a professional), but you might find some value in identifying patterns within your reactions to closeness. Analyzing possible attachment styles can be pretty shitty and illuminating and uncomfortable—my own included, of course. Bright side: you don't need to box yourself into a label because the brain is so malleable and every relationship is different. It just might take a little more intention (and perhaps a little therapy!!!) to get yourself to the outcome you want.

All in all, I just want to figure out: what's the best, lightest way to have people matter to you? Suck it up and go on enough dates with multiple people at the same time to dilute the intensity of getting closer to someone you like (but feel like it's vaguely disrespectful to not be emotionally available to the others), or avoid dating entirely to be considerate, or just hope luck/timing/pacing/choice/awareness of your patterns works out when interest does finally appear so you don't accidentally fumble your shot at connecting?

Control, perfectionism, optimism—

I'm a very confident person in most regards. When I decide to do something, I follow through. I set goals high and often reach them, and hold myself to a (likely unfair) standard of excellence—not for achievements (although yes), but also in character, so I'm most frustrated with myself when I act in ways that are icky or weak or passive. I don't think I'm too prideful to admit when I'm wrong, and I do put my ego aside for the sake of personal connections. I'm honest. But I am overall "a lot." (I love it. Y'all don't have to.)

I thrive while traveling and making my world bigger and getting outside of myself, but I also thrive in routine and discipline. I buckle down hard. And of course, contrast makes the lightness and serendipity worth savoring when it arrives in the margins of that rigor. (That's also partly why I reject some of the Stoic philosophy of disregarding so much as temporary; aesthetics, your material reality, and the people you surround yourself can be grounding instead of the reverse, so long as you have a healthy attachment to them.)

“And therein lies the whole of man's plight. Human time does not run in circles; it runs ahead in a straight line. That is why man cannot be happy: happiness is the longing for repetition.”

(From The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera.)

I'm not sure I can ever successfully get my mind to stop weighing itself down with significance, but I have gotten significantly better at discarding the weight, or at the very least sifting through our reality with more awareness of what to let go. I try not to be naïve but still am probably too rosy about the way things work.

It's good to be self-aware overall, I think, but also fixating on your own purpose/story/agency can also make you fall into the main character trap of believing your narrative matters more than anyone else's perception. Or can put you into the box of trusting yourself too much, when in reality, we're ever-shifting and always vulnerable to changing our minds. How do you make the best choices without considering everything with enough gravity?

“We can never know what we want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come.”

(From The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera.)

I really only fall into feeling heavy when it feels like I'm not moving the needle, like everything roughly stays the same á la hedonistic treadmill, even though that's largely outcome bias speaking.

So, stay active in your willpower, but be okay with how external factors and other people might be out of your control? Reading about stoicism helped some (and Seneca's next on the TBR), as does a healthy dose of nonfiction reminding me that we're way more adaptable than we think and way less in control than we believe.

“Outcome bias: an error made in evaluating the quality of a decision when the outcome of that decision is already known.”

Some experiences are more meaningful because we've shared them, or snapped into a mode of performance only possible with an audience. Others are more special when savored and kept private. And are you most yourself when in full, sober control of yourself, or when you're caught off-guard—either by the situation or an altered state? But we still end up assuming we know the whole of someone based on a sliver of what they share, but snap judgements are necessary to our ability to function socially and efficiently. Misunderstandings will inevitably happen.

This, at least, is a way in which I've grown up in the last couple of years. Someone once asked me on an Instagram story Q&A if I had any advice for my younger self, and my answer was that I used to spend a lot of time and energy in college and prior trying to correct if I felt like someone had misinterpreted me, regardless of if that impression was good or bad, just because it wasn't "accurate." That's entirely separate from whether a person likes you or not anyway. Now, I understand that's just a part of life, even if it's frustrating to know you didn't get yourself across in the "right" way. I still do overexplain, but am much more comfortable knowing that you cannot always provide the full picture. That helps me be lighter, to be less serious about my self-portrayal.

Lightly, my darling, lightly.

Being in the sun makes me lighter—hence my tattoo. Books make me lighter. Moving makes me lighter (dancing, especially.) The places I return to make me lighter, and I write frequently about how your favorite spots both return you to a core version of yourself and mark how much you've changed (so I find them very special.) Routine and the confidence of it make me lighter. Hobbies and art and beauty. Having my own independence and rhythms definitely makes me lighter. Traveling makes me lighter, and I love awe in nature for reminding me that I'm one of many. But as for the pursuit of lightness overall, in all domains of life? How do you balance lightness with deciding something matters? Still very much a work in progress for me.

The Appendix—A Reading List

lightness / The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera

grief / The Long Goodbye by Meghan O'Rourke

grateful / Gratitude by Oliver Sacks

personality testing (and the limits thereof) / Me, Myself, and Us by Brian R. Little

the people we are connected to / Connected by James H. Fowler and Nicholas Christakis

factors we can't even identify / Drunk Tank Pink by Adam Alter

the body's memories / The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk

and physiological patterns / Mind in Motion by Barbara Tversky

constantly lying / The Memory Illusion

who I'm listening to / You're Not Listening by Kate Murphy

awe / Awe by Dachner Keltner

nature / Devotions by Mary Oliver

flow states / Flow by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi

near water / Blue Mind by Wallace J. Nichols

awareness of beauty / Your Brain on Art by Ivy Ross and Susan Magsamen

with an audience / How to Disappear by Akiko Busch

in full control / How to Be a Stoic by Massimo Pigliucci

altered state / Drunk by Edward Slingerhand

time passing / Four Thousand Weeks by Oliver Burkeman

the whole of someone / Every You, Every Me by David Levithan

dating itself / Labor of Love by Moïra Weigel

social media and online presences / Alone Together by Sherry Turkle

reading people / The Confidence Game by Maria Konnikova

parasocial relationships / The Age of Magical Overthinking by Amanda Montell

digital messages / Irresistible by Adam Alter

The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera

Novel: The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera
Release Date: 1984
Publisher: Harper Perennial
Format: Paperback
Source: Bookstore

In The Unbearable Lightness of Being, acclaimed author Milan Kundera tells the story of two couples: a young woman in love with a man torn between his love for her and his incorrigible womanizing, and one of his mistresses and her humbly faithful lover. In a world in which lives are shaped by irrevocable choices and by fortuitous events, a world in which everything occurs but once, existence seems to lose its substance, its weight. Hence, we feel "the unbearable lightness of being" not only as the consequence of our pristine actions but also in the public sphere, and the two inevitably intertwine.

This magnificent novel is a story of passion and politics, infidelity and ideas, and encompasses the extremes of comedy and tragedy, illuminating all aspects of human existence.

When I was a teenager, I ran a book club for high schoolers based out of Oxford Exchange in Tampa, Florida, in which we read a classic a month to discuss. I loved reading Milan Kundera for this one, and I remember our conversations being wonderful—later, I went on to read the rest of his backlist. Reading this had such an impact on one of the attendees that she later got a tattoo of the book cover (so it may be a great pick for young adults dealing with the overwhelm of picking between colleges, lifestyles, and a thousand other probabilities.)

His voice is hit-or-miss in that he'll describe a situation then segue into the philosophical considerations of it; it feels very meta, and you'll either appreciate the creativity or decide he's not for you. The overall sense is that you never get a full look at exactly what's happening, but the themes and threads weave through each moment in ways you might connect to. For that reason, it can feel light and loose and meandering—abstract to the extent that it may not mean anything to you.

Don't love his flat characterization of women, but that feels pretty standard for the time and demographic (1930s, Czech male.)

His characters deal a lot with the paralysis of choice. What if they get a better option tomorrow? If they feel suffocated, should they go in the opposite direction? Where does their ideal reality lie?

Overall, it's a pretty easy read in my opinion and worth looking into if you have similar questions or explorations—or just for a strange, ironic novel with which to pass the afternoon. Also, love the cover.