a slow start to spring Spring has sprung, but I am treading lightly. After characteristically overbooking my schedule, spreading myself too thin, and continuously pushing myself to be the person who exercises five days a week, hosts and attends parties, keeps a clean house, and stays up to date on the news while also trying to find time for leisurely reading to become whatever our communal definition of “a well-read person” is… I fell sick. No, it’s not allergies. Yes, it may be the seasons changing. But it’s more likely my tendency to overbook, overwhelm, and overdose myself with an overstuffed agenda that seems still unable to squeeze everything in. When will I learn? When will we learn? For I know I’m not alone in my plight. Strangely, I imagine it’s the over-doers (not the under-doers) who have given rise to the Internet’s 5AM rise-meditate-journal “rituals” and the likes of Time Management for Mortals and Atomic Habits (the former, I’ve read; the latter, yet another foreboding title on the ever-spiraling TO READ list). How did we get here? That’s another, bigger story for another, far-off day. What matters is, we’re here: Stressed. Strung out. And overly strict, usually with no one but ourselves. It’s why slow living is becoming a thing, of which I purport to be a proponent—but it’s awfully hard to hold on to a slower rhythm when you’re stuck in a go-go-go world that demands you go-go-go with it. But I’m trying. Last month I deemed February the Month of The Loner, one to stay inside, savor the dark, silent days, and revel in the respite that are the last days of winter. I frequently extol the virtues of analog living—a kind of quiet, slow-paced revolution to counter the rah-rah bragging of a world that’s hardest, better, faster, stronger (and I would add, louder). But this month, I gave in to the rah-rah chanting. I told myself I had failed for not producing enough, not meeting my goals, and not checking off all the boxes on my many, many lists. I have to remind myself that perhaps I did not fail. Perhaps I am not incompetent. Perhaps I am not lazy. Perhaps me getting sick is my body’s way of saying, “Can you maybe cool it? None of this is that big of a deal.” And so I bought flowers at the farmer’s market. I made myself some sage tea. And as I let my tired body heal, I remembered that spring doesn’t chastise itself for not arriving on schedule. It simply reveals itself when it is ready. Welcome to Issue No. 003 of A Merry Loner’s Digest—your distillation of the last month’s articles, oddities, and assorted occurrences. Or as I chaotically like to call it: musings on finding merriment among the monotony, misery, and malaise.
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Posts You May Have Missed🌻 I Don’t Like Traveling Alone—But I Keep Doing It AnywayGUEST POST ALERT! This month, A Merry Loner welcomes contributing writer Alyssa Wiens who recounts the dark side of solo travel—and why she keeps booking solo trips even though she doesn’t always like it. READ 🌻 Protecting Your Alone Time: Shelby DiNobile on Learning How to Prioritize YourselfShelby DiNobile is no stranger to Loner Living. Even before he got off social media as part of an introspective Loner Year, he always prioritized following his gut instead of the crowd. In Part II of his conversation with A Merry Loner, this fashion production manager talks about the power of solitude, the importance of doing work that truly fulfills you, and why the right relationships will always respect your need for space. READ Missed Issue No. 002 of A Merry Loner’s Digest? Catch up on evergreen essays you’ll love.
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there’s your teaser—so don’t miss it! Until next time. Take it easy, Merry |
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celebrating being selfish—the good kind of selfish This month is about celebrating being selfish—the good kind of selfish. (No, this is not an ode to self care and the many bath bombs, baubles, and over-manufactured, over-priced trinkets that inevitably clutter your shelves, each sold to you in an artificially empowering package of “treat yourself,” “glow up,” or the inimitable and indefatigable: “Because you’re worth it.” This is the kind of selfish where you maybe admit to yourself that...