Lately, I’ve been thinking about these words by Virginia Woolf. I haven’t read her letters, but this line here is something that I encounter many times online.
It always makes me stop. It’s Spring finally, but it took me a while to get out of a mental rut. When thinking about my own letter, this space here, and what I wanted to write, I found my mind going blank — could it be that I have nothing to say? Well, that would have been a first. I did have thoughts, though. Making them clear was the challenge. So I took the pressure off, went back to Woolf, and hoped Spring would lift me from collapse. Again, it took a while. But here I am.
While trying to get out of a slump, I started doing yoga. I can’t say it’s a hobby yet. I’ve been doing it every day for a month now, and despite loving it, it takes more than just time before something goes from transient to permanent.
I also took a deep dive into the Bauhaus movement. I was on Instagram one of these days, and a friend shared something that got me absolutely captivated. It seemed like a performance(?), but I needed to find out all about it in the name of unhealthy obsession. Turns out it was something called Das Triadisches Ballett (the Triadic Ballet) by one of the Bauhaus masters, Oskar Schlemmer. We all have those moments when we’re online and just allow ourselves to go down a peculiar rabbit hole. This was one of those. Among several things, I learned that Schlemmer was very interested in geometry and how the human body can occupy space — the abstract geometry of bodies moving in space. I’m still in awe.
You might think this is a mess and all of these thoughts are very loose. They really were for a while. I couldn’t put them together; they were independent sprouts in the back of my mind. And then I started wondering how much space I occupy. All my life, I’ve been quite reserved. I (used to) save my words for when I was 100% sure they added something to the discussion. I unconsciously created this idea that my worth is tied to how undemanding I am. I don’t take up a lot of space. I keep quiet. I don’t really voice my concerns. I’m small.
In yoga, there’s this pose I really like (probably because it’s one of the few I can actually do). It’s called Warrior II. You go from a low lunge — hands and knees down — and have to propel yourself to a standing position. The trick here is using your arms. You swing them up in the air to gain the balance and strength you need, and suddenly you’re (in) Warrior II. How beautiful is that? To go from small to as immense as you can be. To break the air and settle in your space. The space you deserve to inhabit in order to feel balanced.
I’m learning to take up that space. All the space I need. To let me out of my head and into the world. I never believed those yoga gurus, but damn, it really does help. So yes, Oskar Schlemmer became my yoga guru and thanks to that, I could finally enter Spring.
Books
I was checking my Storygraph and realised I’m reading less than I was last year. Yet, it made me really happy to see I’m reading better books, taking my time with them and fully appreciating each of those journeys.
Die, My Love by Ariana Harwicz
I cannot tell you how much I loved this book. I’ve been thinking about it since I finished it. No, perhaps since I started it is more accurate.
Harwicz takes a topic we recognise from authors like Sylvia Plath and, more recently, Ottessa Moshfegh and brings it into a new light. There’s a woman struggling with mental health, struggling to live, playing with the edge between life and death. Yet, Harwicz makes it excruciatingly ugly. As I wrote on Instagram, Die, My Love is the textbook definition of not pulling any punches.
Films
I subscribed to Mubi earlier in March which means I’ve been catching up with my watchlist (and loving it).
Drive My Car (2021) dir. Ryusuke Hamaguchi
You probably know all there is to know about how good this is. Well, yes, it’s really that great. The film is based on a Murakami short story from his collection, Men Without Women, and the script is beautifully adapted.
It’s been a while since I watched a film that takes its time. Recently, everything is made to fit within those conventional 2 hours or less, which made this one even more refreshing. It doesn’t speed up, it just takes all the time it needs and the result is delicately nuanced.
Microhabitat (2017) dir. Jeon Go-Woon
This was one of my Mubi watches and goodness did I love it. The story follows a woman who’s financially struggling, so she has to make cuts. The surprise element here is precisely what she decides to keep and what needs to go. In the end, I found this to be a harsh but elegant portrait of our current system. Are we happier because we can satisfy basic needs at the expense of pleasures? What constitutes a basic need? Can we go on without any joy in life? And if so, is it worth it?
That was all — thank you for reading
One final note: I’m on Twitter now! I’ll be using it to share some of these loose thoughts, along with my current consumptions, from books, to films, music and who knows what else. I’d love to be friends, so here I am:
I hope you stick around and feel free to reach out above or on Instagram!