an epilogue: experiments in motion

somewhere where the blossoms mingle with the moon caught in a blue, blue sky, taken on 35mm film

A few things have come to mind since I shared my latest experiments in motion, and I’d like to share them now before they slip my mind (which they will, because they always do).

Creating a website that is an ever-evolving, representation of myself, has become somewhat of an obsession. For instance: I had just tidied my office/guest room earlier today, and wanted to spend some time enjoying the efforts by way of writing this post (while listening to this artist and this new album).

That was over two hours ago.

And not that there is anything wrong with me taking a detour to my desired destination, but I wasn’t just taking my time, I was micro-adjusting a mailing list sign up form (of all the things!), and I found myself fixating on this one, very small detail, to the point of wanting to delete my entire website (dramatic, I know, but that’s just how these things go sometimes).

That brings us to the first experiment: on creating a website that feels like a home. Yes, by all means fine tune the details (aesthetics are important!), but if the details keep you up at night or get in the way of actually creating—doing whatever it is you’ve built this wonderful online space to do—then let’s step back and reevaluate.

I have a feeling that it (this obsession) has to do with a desire for control. A want for things to be a very particular way, and the idea that I could possibly trust my computer and the programs that I use to create this online space, to get it just right, feels somewhat impossible. So, I tell myself, I must tend to and tweak and make better, always better.

The thing is, it doesn’t make it better, not always, and sometimes all it does is provide me with a false sense of control that keeps me from being present in other areas of my life (like, but not limited to: taking care, relationships, work, actually writing this post, staying up-to-date on the world at large, and so on).

What I’d like to do here is underline and highlight and remember the feeling of being out-of-control in other areas of my life, and how they can often translate into tendencies like: obsessing over things that, when you zoom out and take a look at the bigger picture, will likely result in me being ok, again and again.

Because, as it turns out, everything plays into everything else and that anxiety that you were experiencing earlier today? It might now be in the shape of you hunched over your computer, eyes strained and palms sweaty, telling yourself just one more minute and then I’ll be done.

Now is when I remind myself that something like choosing to build a personal website—a project that holds no immediate expectation or deadline or weighted outside opinion, should be a challenge, but the kind of challenge that comes from projects that are 100% self-imposed. Projects that have you saying yes, I’m going to try this because I’m curious about it and because I want to, not because it’s being asked of me.

While I wasn’t planning on saying anything about my second experiment of being present, a few thoughts have come to mind.

And these are not new thoughts or ideas, only something else worth highlighting and underlining and remembering: being present is a privilege. It’s something I get to try because I am safe, my family is safe, and our basic needs are met.

It means that this moment must ok-enough, for me to want to be in it, because if any of my circumstances were any different, I likely wouldn’t be here, discussing presence.

I think the fact that I even get to call this ‘an experiment’ is something worth paying closer attention to: I often over-look/take for granted the accessibility I have to focusing on topics like this.

My intention behind this digital library is to, amongst other things, have it change shape as I inevitably learn new things and change as a person. And then, maybe, somewhere along the way, we’ll take a step back to discover a messy, imperfect, and forever unfolding collection of stories, ideas, processes, resources, and experiments. Something to keep expanding upon (that’s my hope, anyway).

This would be an unfolding that reaches far, far outside of the confines of our own singular perspective. Because taking care is not a singular, photographable moment, it’s an on-going evolution—something both deeply personal and profoundly communal, and I do not believe that you can feel successful in one, without supporting the success of the other.

So, while I continue into my third month of this experiment, I will keep doing what I can (what is accessible to me right now) to support both the singular and the communal—a ‘taking care’ that starts with the individual, and ends with the collective (except there is no end, it’s just one forever loop).

As for the experiment of writing, I have no note-worthy updates beyond what I shared in my voice note here, only that I suspect it is intertwined with it all (as most things do).

It does seem that some things are not made to be made sense of, though I will likely try to get to the bottom of these inner workings, only to have them (‘them,’ in this particular case, being the act of writing long-form essays and short fiction) come and go as they please.

Or maybe it’s not in the trying. Who knows, anyways, that’s feels like all I have in me for the time being. I hope this update provided you with something useful or entertaining or honest, or a little bit of all three.

Bye for now,
Chloe

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