The Year of Play, Pt. Two

I started to look at this as a bizzaro world. Stuff just appeared off. People who were normally reliable were suddenly, uncharacteristically not. Opportunities that flowed into my life, everything seemingly lining up in ways that made sense (whether narratively in the year, career, or life story context) vanished in ways that didn't make sense.

I try and be aware of my arrogance (I understand this is a strange sentence. The best I can explain is maybe the best way to avoid ending up as a narcissist is to stay super self-aware of the traits of narcissists and do the opposite of those things. I have a similar relationship with arrogance. None of this is a personal endorsement at how good I am at either of these; I can attest to I pay attention and try not to be either of those things). I spent better portions of this year trying to figure out where I was wrong, or how I could be aware of where I was convinced I was right and others were wrong.

If that's why things felt bizzaro to me, maybe I was creating my own warped-reality prison. Maybe those people who'd disappointed me deserved more grace than I was showing them. Definitely the opportunities that didn't pan out were the result of good people deciding what was best for them.

There were a bunch of these ups and downs this year. It was exhausting. I felt off.

Then one Monday my wife stepped on a wet rug in a part of our house with no water sources nearby. Water leak, five gallons per load leaking from the discharge hose for maybe four days flooded our subfloor, half the upstairs and a few walls and ceilings downstairs needing to be repaired.

We ended up a few miles North, moved into a long-term Airbnb while the worst of it was getting worked. The disruption to our routines was amazing.

Meyer not himself. Get to be part of him resetting.

Getting in sync with all around me. Finding where I was drawn to, accepting how it showed up. Constantly letting go of my expectations. Surf ski one day, catch the best waves I've ever had. Next day, not so much. But maybe the goal wasn't catch waves and keep improving. Maybe it's all just an exercise in tuning in more deeply. What's the boat doing? How is it reacting? The less I forcefully paddled (imposed my will), the cooler it felt as an experience. Gliding along

One of my best friends died this year. Billy Minor.

Bon Iver sable. The three songs that comprise Bon Iver's new record SABLE, emerged from a long-gestating breakdown. Think about the journey Justin Vernon has been on across the past two decades: For Emma Forever Ago, high profile collaborations on records by artists like Kanye West and Taylor Swift, throwing music festivals in his city, and the increasingly layered and elaborate touring and recording machine that Bon Iver became. An electricity began to swell in Vernon's chest. Being Bon Iver meant playing a part, and intentionally leaning into that role meant frequently pressing hard on a metaphorical bruise. He developed literal physical symptoms from deep anxiety and constant pressure. At the end of his rope, maybe done with music, and thinking increasingly about the process of healing, he finally found the time to unpack years of built-up darkness just as the lockdown began.

These songs are reflections of unfinished business, of guilt and anguish. "I'm a sable/ and honey, us the fable," he sings in the record's closing track. Some of Vernon's best songs are the saddest ones, and there's a kind of unintentional toxic reinforcement that comes when everyone praises your most depressed instincts. SABLE, is named for near-blackness, the record an externalized projection of his turmoil. This trio of songs represents an unburdening from one of the most trying eras in Vernon's life. There was a time not long ago where Vernon intentionally hid his face. Here, the blinds are open.