This was a joy to read—and not in the dopamine-fueled scroll-hit kind of way, but in the slow-burn, “make-you-sit-with-your-humanity” kind of way.
Your reflection on the surreal mundanity of major life moments popped me right in the forehead. When my first child was born, I remember being stunned by how ordinary it all felt in real time—stoplights, parking spots, receipts—and how incongruent that was with the seismic emotional shift happening inside me. There should’ve been an orchestra! A spotlight! Instead, it was stale cafeteria coffee and filling out forms in ballpoint pen. Your line about wanting to shout, “Hey, our lives just profoundly changed over here, stop everything!”—I’ve lived that moment.
And this bit about construal level theory and the tension between the abstract and the specific? Just brilliant. I’ve always felt that as we age, the illusion of time’s acceleration is partly due to how each new moment becomes a smaller percentage of our whole life—a shrinking denominator that makes the days feel faster and thinner. Add to that the reality that memory is a compression algorithm—we remember abstraction, not texture—and it’s no wonder the past feels like a highlight reel while the present feels like a mess of errands and mismatched socks.
Your description of writing—starting from abstraction, then wrestling with the specifics until the original idea either crystallizes or mutates into something better—is exactly the creative process I wrestle with daily. What you described isn’t just how I write essays; it’s how I metabolize life!
Anyway, thank you. For sharing something thoughtful, vulnerable, and resonant. It’s posts like this that make all the chaff of Substack worth wading through. Posts that remind us that meaning isn’t found in echo chambers or viral takes—but in the shared mess of being alive, thinking too hard, and trying to make sense of it all with other curious humans.
Yeaaaah, so many of my articles have strayed from my starting point. It always reminds me of the notion that somewhere in a block of marble is a statue waiting to be revealed, but it might not be what we thought.
With some level of determination and intentionality, I think it's possible to force something out but those are the times when it doesn't feel quite right.
The other thing your article brings to mind is the notion of 'living in the present' and shortening how much we try to project into the future, and often the gap between the two can creates the space for judgment or disappointment.
But I would like there to be more spontaneous song and dance though...
I'm never sure whether the straying means I should have spent more time thinking and outlining first, or if it's a sign I should have dug into the details quicker because outlining isn't ultimately that effective
We definitely need more song and dance routines, but you know what they say--be the change you want to see. Please spontaneously break into song and dance in your everyday life. Especially at work, and take a video
I like to think life is found in the small moments, our lives are in the way we make a cup of tea, the drive to work, the chat over the dinner table, and it's beautiful!
I find it's very difficult, too. And I wonder if that's a modern bias because we're so used to being able to put our thoughts into a fixed medium. Ancient people who memorized entire monologues, epic poems, complex myths, etc., apparently had better memories, perhaps because they had practically no alternative. I sometimes wonder about the tradeoff of it being so easy to write and record things today.
Just wait for the (possibility) of being a grandparent...
This was a joy to read—and not in the dopamine-fueled scroll-hit kind of way, but in the slow-burn, “make-you-sit-with-your-humanity” kind of way.
Your reflection on the surreal mundanity of major life moments popped me right in the forehead. When my first child was born, I remember being stunned by how ordinary it all felt in real time—stoplights, parking spots, receipts—and how incongruent that was with the seismic emotional shift happening inside me. There should’ve been an orchestra! A spotlight! Instead, it was stale cafeteria coffee and filling out forms in ballpoint pen. Your line about wanting to shout, “Hey, our lives just profoundly changed over here, stop everything!”—I’ve lived that moment.
And this bit about construal level theory and the tension between the abstract and the specific? Just brilliant. I’ve always felt that as we age, the illusion of time’s acceleration is partly due to how each new moment becomes a smaller percentage of our whole life—a shrinking denominator that makes the days feel faster and thinner. Add to that the reality that memory is a compression algorithm—we remember abstraction, not texture—and it’s no wonder the past feels like a highlight reel while the present feels like a mess of errands and mismatched socks.
Your description of writing—starting from abstraction, then wrestling with the specifics until the original idea either crystallizes or mutates into something better—is exactly the creative process I wrestle with daily. What you described isn’t just how I write essays; it’s how I metabolize life!
Anyway, thank you. For sharing something thoughtful, vulnerable, and resonant. It’s posts like this that make all the chaff of Substack worth wading through. Posts that remind us that meaning isn’t found in echo chambers or viral takes—but in the shared mess of being alive, thinking too hard, and trying to make sense of it all with other curious humans.
Looking forward to reading more. - Pete
Thank you so much, that's very kind
Yeaaaah, so many of my articles have strayed from my starting point. It always reminds me of the notion that somewhere in a block of marble is a statue waiting to be revealed, but it might not be what we thought.
With some level of determination and intentionality, I think it's possible to force something out but those are the times when it doesn't feel quite right.
The other thing your article brings to mind is the notion of 'living in the present' and shortening how much we try to project into the future, and often the gap between the two can creates the space for judgment or disappointment.
But I would like there to be more spontaneous song and dance though...
I'm never sure whether the straying means I should have spent more time thinking and outlining first, or if it's a sign I should have dug into the details quicker because outlining isn't ultimately that effective
We definitely need more song and dance routines, but you know what they say--be the change you want to see. Please spontaneously break into song and dance in your everyday life. Especially at work, and take a video
I thought you enjoyed cooking 😜
Somehow I've ended up the primary cook in every relationship I've been in, but I don't particularly like it!
I think you’re pretty good at it though…
I like to think life is found in the small moments, our lives are in the way we make a cup of tea, the drive to work, the chat over the dinner table, and it's beautiful!
Sometimes it's the ordinary moments almost forgotten then remembered that come back to us as awakened moments that impact us profoundly.
> I can't hold a whole essay in my mind.
I find it's very difficult, too. And I wonder if that's a modern bias because we're so used to being able to put our thoughts into a fixed medium. Ancient people who memorized entire monologues, epic poems, complex myths, etc., apparently had better memories, perhaps because they had practically no alternative. I sometimes wonder about the tradeoff of it being so easy to write and record things today.