Would life be easier if I were a fish instead of a human?
And other others I had while exploring Portland's Japanese Garden
This is my newsletter about my life, interests, and work, including my books, writing, and classes. To show your support consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. For $5/month or $50/year, paid subscribers get access to my full archives. I hope you’ll also check out my Substack personal essay publication Open Secrets, which publishers an original essay every week.
Last week I was on vacation in Portland, Oregon, visiting friends and family and taking some time for myself after what’s been a flurry of travel and deadlines and grief. I had an amazing trip and will at some point detail all the delicious foods I ate and other highlights, but for now I wanted to share some thoughts I had while I was there that I hope will continue to guide me (and what I hope is a new weekly structure for my newsletter).
The Portland Japanese Garden is absolutely stunning, and also steps away from the International Rose Test Garden, which I also visited. I would recommend putting the Japanese Garden high on your list of things to do in Portland. I got out of my Uber and the scent of nature and plants and flowers was so strong and welcoming. I had gotten there later than I planned to and was feeling a bit stressed about not having enough time but even though it was around four, and they close at six, it wound up bring perfect.
I had just visited a Japanese garden in Florida, when I attended my friend Kiki’s celebration of life. That had felt peaceful and joyous in some ways because I was with people who knew her, and I could take in them telling me that she had loved visiting that garden and simply acknowledge it as a fact. But when I walked into the Portland Japanese garden, I immediately wanted to cry. I felt so sad that she would never get to visit this garden, or Japan, a country I know she’d wanted to visit.
So I sat down on one of the many benches tucked away amid trees and greenery and I made a video I may post someday about what I was feeling, and kept walking. I wanted to visit all of the five gardens, and I didn’t mind if sometimes I got lost and wound up going down stairs and past waterfalls I’d already seen. I saw a group of three women trying to take a selfie and offered to snap one for them. I watched families trying to keep up with their small children. I marveled at the heights of some of the trees, and the longevity of a 300-year-old bonsai.
When I came across the koi fish, I watched their mouths open and close, their bodies gliding across the water, looking perfectly content. I don’t know much about koi fish, or any fish, really, so I don’t even know if they have the capacity for the concept of “content,” but as I watched them, I wondered whether life would be easier if I were a fish, and all I had to do was swim and forage for food. I thought about how sometimes it really sucks to be human and have so many feelings, and how sometimes those feelings, the ones you want to unburden, follow you even when all you want is to soak up some sunshine and nature and get lost in it.
It’s a total cliché, but a very true one: wherever you go, there you are. I was there, and I was sad and I kept walking and saw this sign about the koi. I stayed until I’d seen the entire garden (I think), and instead of buying a magnet in the gift shop, I bought a scarf, even though I’ve never owned a non-winter scarf before. I’ve been trying, especially this year, to embrace the new, whether it’s new hair or new projects or new fashion, but while also protecting and savoring what’s come before.
On my trip. I saw friends I’ve had for 25 years as well as newer friends from the writing world I’ve met online in the last year or two. I hung out with my cousin who’s only one years old, for whom almost everything is new, and delighted in showing her my earrings each morning (and amused when one morning I forgot to put them on and she pushed my hair back and looked for them).
I considered it a sign when I passed by a card store that I should stock up and keep sending cards as often as possible, simply because it makes me (and hopefully the recipient) happy. I ate ice cream as the main part of my lunch. I took a walk and got inspired by a gym I passed by to start using my kettlebells at home. I pushed my flight home one day later to a nonstop when I got worried about making my connection, and got help not having a meltdown about it from my more even-headed boyfriend.
I had some great conversations about ADHD that made me feel less alone, and inspired me to start a column I’ll be debuting this week (probably tomorrow, and then every Wednesday) called ADHD Brain Diaries; for now, I put an old essay that addresses the issue of ADHD medication and creativity. Only in the Japanese garden did I explicitly think, “I wish Kiki could have seen this,” but that refrain is pretty much now a permanent part of my mind and my heart. I wish she were here for the beauty and the mess, because she and I talked about both frequently.
I’m 99% she would have said something along the lines of the fact that I can’t have one without the other, and that ultimately, I probably wouldn’t want to. I probably would be bored if I were a fish, though maybe I wouldn’t know it. Either way, I can’t turn myself into a fish or turn off my heart or my mind, so I’m just trying to appreciate the complicatedness of being a human and all that entails.
What’s new:
Catch up on all the latest
essays (and stay tuned for a new call for essays coming soon)Essay Writing 101 Zoom class, Saturday, July 29, 1-3 pm ET/10 am-1 pm PT. $25/person.
Erotica Writing 101 Zoom class, Saturday, September 9, 1-3 pm ET/10 am-1 pm PT. $25/person.
My nonfiction guide How to Write Erotica is out now
My upcoming erotica anthology Sexy Strangers got a great review in Publishers Weekly
I was at the Portland Japanese Gardens this week. They were every bit as peaceful as you describe.