A ghost train is one that does not appear on any of the apps and systems. The train that arrives and confuses all platformed passengers when the board says the next train arrives in 14 minutes.
The board tells you delays. Reality tells you it has arrived.
Early this morning, as I walked to the first train of the adventure (the train preceding the ghost train), I saw a mailman with a stack of packages. He hopped up the stairs and rang the doorbell and turned to go back to his truck. Bless our delivery people who work insanely hard during this season. I like to make them a little treat during this busy time.
Yesterday, we started our advent calendars. The excitement is so real. There is something absolutely brilliant about anticipation. It adds a real thrill to life. I am reminded that we should build more anticipation. There is nothing like magic we plan and create. There is something special about waiting for something certain. We can create certain certainties.
Here is your PSA to create some magic. And not just in this season, but every season.
Jon Haidt (author of The Anxious Generation) asked ChatGPT how the devil would destroy the next generations. Its answer— the devil comes in convenience.
“Convince them that comfort, consumption, and self-expression are the highest goods, while restraint, sacrifice, and long-term commitment are oppressive. That way, they’ll celebrate indulgence while mocking tradition and discipline—the very things that build strength and freedom across generations.”
Haidt’s essay, which was previously published on The Free Press, and is now on his Substack After Babel, was a fascinating one. I encourage you check it out if you get a minute.
We have reached our “maximum tilt away from the sun,” my almanac tells me for the month of December. I tuck the ribbon bookmark into our last month.
There is a soft tap-tap on the window of rain mixed with some sort of sleet because it sounds harder than just rain. It’s cold outside but not nearly as frigid as the Midwest’s snow slam or Friday’s wind tunnel in NYC, which made it feel like 18F, cutting to the bone.
I feel like I have come full circle with winter. As a child, I found it to be magical. I, like any other kid, hated the heavy coats and getting a zipper jammed into my chin. But I loved seeing the Michigan snowfall, finding maple sap sticky on the bark of trees, and making snow forts outside until the moisture seeped into our mittens and numbed our fingertips.
I have been back in colder climate after a good decade in the South (with a stint in the middle back in the Midwest). I have braved the NYC cold and leapt over giant slushy puddles at intersections for thirteen years. Where does the time go?
The books Wintering by Katherine May and Calm Christmas by Beth Kempton really shifted my perspective toward the magic of the season again. (I am sure marrying someone from a frigid climate helped, as well). When winter arrives, I like to read books that romanticize the season. Books that remind me we can thrive differently and have permission to change with the seasons.
I currently want to go buy tinsel and make a foamy latte. It’s a season that invites us to change pace. The deep darkness invites us to shelter, to move slowly, to pause.
Ironically, I think it has the opposite effect on Russians. We walked through NYC during the 18F, and most of the people who braved the weather and were out and about were Russian. They seem to come alive in this weather.
I saw something recently that made me smile— it said something like “If you put away your phone, you’ll realize it’s still 2007. The mountains haven’t moved. The snow is still piled high.” I think if we slow down and pay attention to the nature in this season, we will be filled with much delight. Removing distractions can help us see what hasn’t changed.
“Gratitude is a discipline. It’s a practice. It’s the art of taking full responsibility for your own life, without excuses or blame. This isn’t a spontaneous experience. It’s a choice.
And so today, I’m thankful for the moments I saw my pain, and took responsibility for my experience. I’m thankful for times I tapped into the suffering around me and realized how I was complicit with it.
I’m thankful for being loved, but I’m also thankful for those that left me–the ones that couldn’t make the journey with me.
They taught me much. I’m thankful for the challenges too. They’ve made me tough as nails and resilient.”
As the holidays arrive, one thing I know for certain— so many of us crave nostalgic vibes. We crave the safety and comfort of the past. Its simplicity and partnering maximalism.
Home Alone Christmas
Everything these days feels so minimalistic and beige. It lacks character. Everything ends up looking the same. But we want the festive mess. The lights and tinsel. A table cloth everyone signs. (Or at least one we can reuse for 20 years). Twinkle lights everywhere!!
The other day, we walked through an LL Bean pop-up and the Ralph Lauren stores, and it was a reminder of beauty that lasts. It was beautiful in a classic and quality sense. It had that charm of the past that endures. Story, nature and family at its center.
We want Snoopy, warmth and feeling alive. We want Steve Martin in Planes, Trains and Automobiles. We want a blanket fort and hot chocolate.
It’s about spending less on trendy stuff that doesn’t look lived in or alive. It’s about not giving into the tension of made up rules. It’s about gratitude and making magic with what you have (because I promise you it is enough. It was more than enough in the 90s, and it is abundance now).
It’s about being present, and staying in that soul posture. It’s about connecting with those you love, even if they are at a physical distance. There is no distance in love.
“If you are depressed you are living in the past. If you are anxious you are living in the future. If you are at peace, you are living in the present.” Lao Tzu
I have memories of getting good grades and getting the Metamorphosis CD. I loved flipping through the booklet. It also came with a special DVD that had three music videos on it. There it was, spinning in my purple boombox while I would get ready for the school Christmas show. Curling iron on; glitter on the cheeks. What a time! I can still probably sing every lyric on this CD.
Hilary Duff is back, and she is saying the quiet part out loud in Mature. Her new album (and first in a decade) Luck… or Something is coming soon. First, Jessica Simpson, and now, Hilary Duff. Lindsay Lohan is on Verizon commercials. Is nature healing?
“There’s something very deep here. How do we endure pain? How do we transcend it?
We turn it into art.”
Steven Pressfield, Govt Cheese
By: Gabriela Yareliz
There is a book I have been thinking about since February 2023. I bought it, and it is filled with short standalone chapters that sort of build on each other but also not. I read it slowly and chewed on it. It stayed with me like the scent of a Charleston marsh.
I was cautious in my reading, trying to not miss a thing. Finally, today, I decided I needed to finish this book. I couldn’t carry it with me into another year. Deep inside, I knew the time had come. It was time to devour the remains. And I feasted.
Reading the last 60% of it felt different. It was almost as if I was finally ready for the rest of it. I felt I processed it differently. It rattled and inspired me.
It’s funny how things arrive to us when we are ready. I feel the same when I read a passage of scripture that cuts through me differently.
I feel like the book sat with me in so many seasons. Seasons where I felt the warmth of the sun on my face, where I felt the cold and quiet envelope me, where I waded through the bog of life and my own thoughts. Seeing the world as if I lost my glasses. And today, it was like in the middle of the swamp, a boat appeared. I came home, still gripping the soaked torn pages in my hand. I could see. Everything was clear.
GABRIELA YARELIZ 