Recently I found myself napping in the sun without an alarm. Meandering in the grocery store and taking a long time between sets at the gym. Shooting a basketball and logging into my favorite video games. Cozying into the couch and driving with no ETA. Cutting up bowls of fruit and strolling along the beach. Binging TV I didn’t care about with people I did. Trying all kinds of burrata, red wine, and olive oil. Tipping in cash at the diner. Soaking overnight oats and beans. Walking up the staircase at the bookstore and polished floors of an imposing Ralph Lauren. Candid pictures of parents taking pictures of each other.
I dissolved into the joy of friends I hadn’t seen in years – barely dreaming on couches in cities before morning coffees and long walks and unfiltered streams of consciousness. Buying another drink instead of checking the time. Breathing saltwater on a surfboard in a rubbery wetsuit for five different mornings, hundreds of feet off the Pacific coast. Recording a guitar song whose lyrics I still can’t fully pronounce but whose meaning I’d been thinking of for years. Poker table with my brother. Laughing with thousands of strangers. Karaoke concerts in the car. Running club?! Loved what I saw in the mirror, and looking with pride. Mehndi on my hands as a groomsman, witnessing a brother transform. Sleeping on the shoulder of my grandmother. Experiencing love’s sweetness and temporality. Crying on an airplane.
Across lazy afternoons and ginger ale fueled flights, I’m starting to befriend authors instead of trying to “tick mark” their writings – Kabir, Herman Hesse, Mandelbrot, Vivekananda, Lee Kuan Yew, Osho, Krishnamurti, Cormac McCarthy, Scott Adams, Jamie Wheal, Peter Bernstein, Thomas Sowell, Frank Herbert, Nietzche, Jung. I also feel the new pangs to reject thought pollution altogether – the deep allure is of silence, solace, and a blank piece of paper. If we keep our overstimulation as our nature, we will be severely limited in knowing ourselves. Movies still feel ridiculously enchanting but shows are on perma-mute. Music is constantly playing, but rarely through a device.
Places: Los Angeles, Anaheim, Houston, San Francisco, New York City, San Diego, Barcelona, Seville, Cordoba, Granada, Madrid, Mumbai, Austin (home again!)
Artists (or their art) seen in-person: Kanye / ¥$, Post Malone, Quavo, Bryson Tiller, Summer Walker, Future, Metro Boomin, Don Toliver, Travis Scott, Joey Bada$$, Dominic Fike, Carly Rae Jepsen, Mt. Joy, Natasha Bedingfield; Andrew Schulz, Bill Burr; Caravaggio, Dali, Gaudí, Walt Disney
I think sabbatical is too serious a term, but the soul recharging has been transcendental. I feel rested and empty – ready to be filled with new ambition in this phase I’ve been dreaming about for a decade. Family and friends are close, and the sunsets keep getting more charming. Om.