On Doing Things

a letter about starting a newsletter, fear, and Sohn Won-Pyung's ALMOND

Hello friends, new and old,

I hope this finds you well and rejoicing in a small delight, wherever you are in the world. I’ve personally started writing this on a train where there is a dog staring at me, and I think that is one of life’s little everyday gifts.

If I can begin with the obvious, it can be hard to start something new. How does one launch a newsletter? I have not a clue. What I can tell us is that I wanted to make a newsletter because 1. all the cool kids are doing it (I kid, but also… true?), 2. I have things to say, but most importantly, 3. because I know myself and my writing is better when I write frequently, and I will only write frequently (outside of a university setting) if I have some form of public accountability. That I find life strange without a written output probably also marks the inevitable countdown until I start a PhD (hehe).

And really, publishing on the Internet is a long-held comfort. I used to have a blog (archives here!!!!!) and I used to create a magazine about American Girl dolls (read it here!!!!!), facts that I feel like I should be embarrassed about, but I don’t. Not to sound like a New Yorker think piece, but we (we as in those in their early 20s) grew up on the Internet. Wouldn’t it be strange if previous iterations of myself didn’t exist across the World Wide Web?

But I suppose I start us here because harboring different creative projects is par the course for me, and this newsletter is but a reminder that I involve myself in a lot. In fact, I’ve long been told that I am someone who does things — a lot of things. Usually, this is expressed with admiration, perhaps a bit of awe, sometimes even concern. And to be fair, friends and acquaintances who point this out are not wrong: I do involve myself in a variety of projects and positions and “things to do.” It’s hard to discuss without falling victim to the transactional currency that is being busy, but I keep a packed calendar because I like the opportunities to find new communities, meet new people, try new things. I thrive when I feel involved. And in a way, it’s a combination of my introversion and curiosity that I gravitate towards these various forms of structured socializing and making: socializing/making with an end, socializing/making with a purpose.

However, I struggle to see my “doing” as something to admire, just as much as I bristle at the idea of it being a point of concern. I seek out various activities to satisfy a need in my life, and I can fulfill the need because I’m privileged to have the free time, the financial security, and the social capital as a cis white woman to enter and occupy different spaces. I suppose that’s why I find it hard to respond. If I were really stepping outside of my comfort zone (and what a personal conversation that becomes!), I would be doing nothing at all.

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When I was traveling recently, my airport book of choice was Almond. I am a sucker for a good cover, and this has a great one. Nestled inside is a tender story about a boy, Yunjae, who finds it hard to feel emotions due to a brain condition called Alexithymia. While such a premise runs the risk of ableist tropes, I was pleasantly surprised at how author Sohn Won-Pyung allows Yunjae just to be the teenager that he is, navigating the joys, challenges, and endless awkwardness of adolescence just as much as his classmates—including Gon, a more aggressive peer with whom he strikes an unexpected friendship. Readers with short attention spans will be rewarded with fast-moving chapters that (fortunately) don’t come at the cost of nuanced character development. And if you have an opportunity to pick it up, you’ll also witness the gorgeous English translation of Joosun Lee. Translation is an art form in itself.

Almond has been on my brain because I think it’s also a story about fear: realizing it, expressing it, reckoning with it. Yunjae doesn’t “feel” fear, though he is conscious that the emotion of fear exists, and so while he does not technically feel the emotion, he must still contend with the expectation to move outside of his firmly held comfort zone.

I suppose here the complication comes when your comfort zone is doing things, or at least the things that interest you. My friend Oscar jokes that life is just doing things until you die; when stressed, my dad will often advise me to forget my feelings as the things I am stressed about will still need to get done (#comforting); my housemates and I have all talked about how your 20s are meant to be a period of continuous growth. Taken together, what I see in these stances on life is an expectation to keep doing things—and to do things outside of your comfort zone, that to, effectively, grow, you’ll have to face (or forget?) your fear of being silly, wrong, annoying, selfish, embarrassed, etc. one way or another.

And let me be clear, I mention these ideas because, by and large, I agree with them: they have served me and my personal decision-making. I’m also fully aware that discussing how we live and grow through life is all more nuanced—and a reflection of privilege and also often so out of our control—than even a rambling newsletter can note. But I’m conscious too that to many, it appears that I live a more-fearless life—and I’m not entirely convinced that’s true. To that point, I appreciate how Almond proposes that fear is not something we should face as a matter of growth (as if fear is something to “overcome” on our journey of personal development) so much so as something to honor as an essential component of who we are. There is a beautiful passage I would cite had I not already returned it to the library in which he rebuts the idea that being fearless is something we should all strive for, and I love it because it drives the point home that fear is both personal and necessary.

None of these ideas necessarily contradict: we do things because we have to, we do things because we want to, we do things to grow, we feel fear, we don’t feel fear, we learn to face fear. But Almond throws another thought into the ring: that we can do things, big or little, ongoing or not, in or out of our comfort zone, but how often we actually choose to be “fearless” doesn’t determine the value of how we live our lives.

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I am curious then what happens if we tend to our relationship with fear. Just yesterday, I came across a comment on the good old blog that is Cup of Jo: “We have one chance to live this life and feel reality, and yet we choose to spend it looking at how others spend their realities.” The commentary on our attachment to technology is an essay for another day, but the comment stuck in my head because it is true. Life is short, and we might as well use the time we have to “feel reality.” I think a common follow-up to this—or one I’ve certainly believed before—is that facing your fears and taking the leap and just “doing the thing” equates to a (more) full life.

But I’m proving myself wrong. My way of finding fullness, right now at least, is by intentionally seeking out and saying yes to things that make my heart sing. It is a full life, but it is not a fearless life, and I’m content in my belief that that is okay. I know my relationship with fear has a long way to go, though I admittedly don’t know where that leaves me (or us) entirely. I’m hoping to stop the valorizing of both “doing (a lot of) (different) (big) things” and “facing your fears.” Instead, let us chase ways of filling our lives and supporting others in how they choose to fill theirs—if and when they choose to step outside of their comfort zone. And of course, a “full” life will look different from person to person, and that is the point.

I’d love to hear what you think: if you also identify as a “doer,” what your current relationship to fear is, if you’re feeling stagnant, what a full life might look like for you, etc., etc.—I believe Substack has a little comment feature you can use if you feel so inclined! Otherwise, I think that’s everything for the time being. Thank you again for being here! And until next time.

With love,
Bella

P.S. Things I’m Consuming

I journal regularly in a fabulous little journal called Moon Lists, and one of their prompts has you list the culture you consumed over the course of a month. I love it as a way of marking time, and so I thought no better platform to copy the idea than here as a little newsletter addendum! Pay it no mind if you’re already swimming in recommendations, but if you fancy a new book, movie, recipe, or album, here’s what I’ve enjoyed recently:

+ Out of the Sun: On Race and Storytelling: I saw this collection of essays at a bookstore back in the spring, clocked the stunning cover (you might notice this is a habit of mine), and was delighted to finally find a copy at my local library. Edi Edugyan writes thoughtfully about how race informs our understanding of time, place, and ourselves.

+ Oh Courage: I am absolutely in The Bengsons’ top 1% of fans on Spotify, and for this good reason. Their latest EP is a storytelling masterpiece of 23 minutes—I played “Dying” on repeat for my entire one-hour commute and have no regrets.

+ Smitten Kitchen’s Big Apple Crumb Cake: It’s apple season, and I’m living for it (!!!). Deb at Smitten Kitchen (which forever remains my favorite food blog) has the easiest and most delicious apple cake, and if you’re not already running to the store to grab apples to make it, you don’t know what you’re missing out on.

+ See How They Run: If you like theatre and/or mysteries and/or London, do I have the film for you! “See How They Run” is a wonderful homage to Agatha Christie, and I was so pleased to spend a rainy Sunday seeing it at the cinema. Saoirse Ronan, as ever, is a delight.