Drawing circles: a wip.
And a dream I don't think I can deny.
on practice
I picked up circle drawing a few years back. I can’t tell you what’s so pleasing about it, but it quickly became one of my fave Zentangle patterns. It just really pleases my eyeballs and my body.
A few weeks ago I finished a 6 x 7 inch sheet of circles, filling in the negative space with black and (happy accident) brown ink and just, like, could not contain myself.
Almost every drawing I do, I want to make it bigger, but have been hesitant. It feels daunting and I fear I’ll lose interest halfway through or it’ll take too long or it won’t come out/I’ll eff it up and have wasted a larger (read more expensive) sheet of paper with nothing to show for it.
Just like some really basic fears that I fully intended to ignore at some stage, and I finally have.
And I’m so pleased because I have loved every single moment of this 18 x 24-inch drawing coming into being. Every circle (or near circle, and some not near circles at all) I put down is, if not a pleasure, then an astute representation of where I’m at.
Which, I love observing: my hand starts moving too quickly or wobbles more when I’m hungry or tired. If I slow my hand down, my breath slows with a sigh. When my eyeballs get unfocused, I need some water or just to stop and probably to nap.
And when I set the drawing on a table, I marvel at it every time I pass it by. I mean, just, like really love on it. I talk to it. I tell it how much I love it. How beautiful it is. I don’t even care if this is weird! Because I love it so much.
I can’t see the patterns forming when I’m drawing, so looking at it from a distance, especially just after adding circles, is a whole thing. every. single. time.
Last week, I had to take care of some other things and didn’t have the time or energy to make any progress and I physically yearned for it. Stopped to admire it on several occasions. I frequently wanted to drop everything and draw more circles.
And when finally I was at a stopping point between tasks and there was nothing immediately pressing, I picked it up again and spent a couple of hours with it. My hand felt rusty, and I was full of delight. (I’d prefer to be making circles right now than writing about making circles, but I also want to share it with you!)
My 8 pt Micron nib has worn down, and I don’t know how to prevent that from happening, but I’m going to eke out every bit of ink that I can from it because I am not wasteful! (I’m sure this is a Puritan virtue instilled in me.)
I’m not planning anything, just sort of following intuitive nudges to make bigger or smaller circles and so I have no idea what the final work will look like exactly and that, mixed with the sense of pleasure at each added section, slow as it may be, seems to be curiosity enough to continue on.
dreaming italy
Y’all. This has just, it’s got me. Like I am got, and I don’t think I can stop it even if I wanted to. Or maybe I have been working really hard to stop this train for most of my adult life, and it’s made everything so much harder. So I’ve just, I’ve got to get it out.
I have been reticent to want anything out loud. For so long, whenever I declared a desire or put an intention toward an outcome, things—never quite fruited. I have felt like a snake oil salesman making promises I was never able to follow through on, to myself, mostly.
The girl who cried wolf, except the girl who dreamed shit up she could never really have: qualifications I thought I wanted (ahem, still don’t have that PhD), careers I half-assedly tried to pursue, projects I only just barely started (all those drafts of writing!) and the ughest one of all: wanting to move to Europe.
In my head my life is so much more exciting than it ever has been, mostly.
I’ve been saying it for so long with no real follow through, even I began to think it wasn’t something I really wanted, just, you know, maybe it’s pleasant to dream of cruising UK’s canals in a narrowboat or having coffee under a vine covered pergola at the back of my Italian villa overlooking lush fields? It’s a dream. A fantasy. No one has it in real life. (Except that they do.)
And it tends to spike up when things don’t feel that great in my real life. So, you know, it’s just escapism. Right? A broken record of escapist fantasy.
A broken record in bullet points:
I’m working toward getting my Italin citizenship: I began collecting the documentation to get Italian citizenship by descent years ago and went on in fits and starts whenever I had some extra money. And, actually, just a few days ago the Italian government implemented a provisional declaration that restricts citizenship by descent to only those with a parent or grandparent born in Italy.
And maybe I could convince my octogenarian grandfather and mother to apply together and see where that cookie crumbles, but it’s actually quite a relief to have that longstanding to-do taking up space in my brain off the list. Like, I think it’s easier to just apply for residency. And I had a lot of fun receiving birth certificates from Italy.I want to move to the UK: I don’t know how many times I’ve told friends I wanted to move back to the UK, how many hours I’ve spent researching whatever graduate program aligned with a current special interest, browsing job boards in fields even tangential to my qualifications, and even just looking at the various visas to see if they’d changed, to see if I may more easily qualify.
And now: As soon as I earn the required income I’m getting a digital nomad visa!
A couple of years ago, I found out that some countries had created digital nomad visas, and just after Italy announced one of their own in April 2024, I had an experience that brought my deepest desire to live in Europe into sharp clarity. I mean, the absolute sharpest clarity.
For a hot second, I thought a path was opening to a move much sooner than I thought I could manage, and I sprung into such momentum. Suddenly, everything seemed so clear and easy. Unfortunately, that situation wasn’t what I thought it was, and I spent a long time reorienting and healing.
But, I just haven’t been able to let the desire go. I’ve tried to convince myself that getting a campervan and traveling around the States would be wildly fun (and even easier, especially with Copper). I wouldn’t have to learn a language (something else I’ve done in fits and starts). I’ve considered a move to the PNW, after all, the weather is very Britain-like. I’ve considered small, New England towns with their Old World charm. I’ve even considered an expat village in the Mexican mountains.
But my body just keeps telling me nope. Nope. Nope. Big fat effing nopes.
So I say this hesitantly, nervously, even with just a bit of fear and shame: I have been dreaming big about moving to Italy. I mean, I am literally having dreams of sipping espresso at a cafe in a little medieval village seldom explored by tourists, the warm sun on my skin, surrounded by stone and cobbles in the middle of a mountain forest, the slowness of Italian life filtering into my very being, jotting a few lines down in a notebook, and Copper chillaxing at home, waiting for me to return and start my work day (i.e., writing and editing this newsletter or drawing circles).
I don’t know how to get from where I am to where I want to be, it feels like an impossible financial leap, let alone an emotional or logistical one. Like if you saw my bank account, snake oil salesman indeed. So right now, I’m just working on the energetic leaps. Clearing out all the fears and insecurities about attracting collaborators, growing this publication, selling art works, being able to actually take care of myself in a way that’s sustainable so that I don’t once again end up back here so burntout and in a severe depression just from, you know, being alive in a neurodivergent body trying to live like I’m in a neurotypical one, tail between my legs, feeling like a failure.
Like whatever happens going forward, it has to be set up in a way that allows me to rest when I need rest. No pushing really hard, no hustling, just ease and peace, and pacing myself. I think I’m getting closer to that in practice, but whether or not it’s working in the real world, i.e., reflected in my bank account, is another story. All this feels like a huge and improbable dream.
So I want to share all the possibilities with you, I want to dream with you going forward, if that’s okay, but can I just leave this here for now, a small whisper to the universe: please clear a path for me and Copper to easefully, sustainably, and safely get to Italy?
in the post
March: the first ephemera packets went out without a hitch last month. Readers at the Founding level (okay, my mom) and randomly selected readers at the Paid level received a random assortment of mail art, letterpress print projects, and paper art I’ve made or collected over the last ten years. I even sewed the bleeding envelopes, y’all. It was a bit extra, but in the spirit of using things up, it made a nice dent in my paper stash.
April: I’ll be sending out the remaining Thank You zines. I know a few folks have received one of these. If you’re a Paid subscriber and have one, can you remind me? And anyone who wants one, please upgrade to Founding and make sure I have your post address before the 15th. <3
invitation to collaborate
Next week, I’ll be sharing an essay On Practice by poet Ricki Cummings, along with a special surprise announcement. I know. You can hardly wait, amirite?
In the meantime, what art, writerly, mind-body, or life practice are you leaning into? What does your writer life look like? What were the inspirations for your favorite works? If you’d like to share about your creative, poetic, spiritual, well-being, or otherwise living life practices, please get in touch. unraveling, unmoored seeks collaborators. More info can be found on the About Page. Please message or email with questions.
with love and gratitude,
Loving all of this! Especially that call to go to Italy and you are not forcing it down. I did that with wanting to move to Folly Beach SC. I'm letting it breathe now, but also I've noticed I've become so content with my location now. Perhaps forest therapy is what changed that for me. I do love this land. The idea of a 2nd home beach house in Folly Beach SC does light me up though.