continuous form

I had my perfect summer peach moment today. It happened without any effort on my part. I just ate a peach at the perfect moment, fully received the pleasure of it, and let it be enough.

It makes sense. Sometimes the part of me that tries for optimal results, that’s often working to control things, just plays itself out—and then life gets to simply happen. I can’t stop myself from trying to control things now and then. That part of me has her place. But sometimes, without my interference, things just align in a way that feels really good.

Yesterday, traffic on my errands felt exhausting. Today, sitting in traffic coming home from the city, I enjoyed the bay shimmering, all the shades of blue, happy tourists walking across the bridge, the rolling coastal hills. Same circumstances, different experience.

Today I finally saw an art exhibit I’d been wanting to see for months. A friend joined me at the last minute. It felt good to co-witness the exhibit, to feel the energy of strangers around us, to step into a world so different from my day-to-day life.

I didn’t take many photos—just one of a quote I wanted to remember. I felt pulled to take the art in with my eyes and heart, not through my phone. I let myself notice how my body felt near the sculptures and paintings. I let there be some mystery.

We kept thinking the exhibit was over, but it kept going. It was something to be immersed in the lifetime work of an artist who never stopped creating, who didn’t feel the need to overexplain. The words ‘continuous form’ appeared again and again—ongoing, without breaks. Like the way life feels sometimes.

As I walked through the rooms, I wondered how this woman processed her life and feelings through the art she made with her hands. Her works have called to me before, and today in such abundance, my heart pulsed, my eyes stayed wide, my mind engaged. The connection was wordless, and I let it stay that way.

Sometimes words can get in the way. And expectations—of myself, of others, of how life will unfold—can interfere with simply being with what is.

It’s a razor’s edge and an open field: holding on and letting go, focusing in and softening my gaze, controlling and surrendering.

Life undulates through curation and dissolution, through surprise and monotony. Nothing lasts, and yet it all goes on and on.

Today I saw this Cory Muscara quote: “The mind seeks understanding. The heart makes space for what cannot be understood.” Life is like this. I cannot solve it. I keep trying anyway. And still, it cracks me open, teaching me to allow what cannot be solved.

This is the quote I took a picture of:

“You can’t force a plant to bloom. It has a cycle. You have to tend it and care for it and wait for the bloom to happen. If you don’t take care of it, it dies. The more experience you have like this, the more you begin to understand your own cycle.” —Ruth Asawa

Today, I felt my own cycle. Allowing the day to unfold, allowing myself to evolve. Breaking from my routine. Immersing myself in someone else’s world. Noticing how a museum curates the story of a life, and wondering what the artist herself would think of it all. The difference between the two: the best efforts of creating, presenting, observing, trying to understand—and also letting go enough to live life and allow it all to be as it is.