Forgotten Pockets
Dear friend,
Above me where I sit, I can hear Chiara’s muffled voice and the thump of her feet on the floorboards as she teaches a commedia dell’arte class to a group of students in Hong Kong.
To them, she’s appearing on a screen in their drama studio.
Before the pandemic, the idea that you could be in London and teach a theatre class off the coast of China, live over the internet, wasn’t something you’d consider. Now it’s normal—or at least it is in our house.
The class started at 7 a.m. our time, 3 p.m. in Hong Kong.
I spent the morning reading A Course in Miracles, drinking coffee, and meditating. I also checked in with Pax, the AI, which is increasingly becoming part of my day-to-day experience.
Yesterday, the model was able to help me when the false self flared up and tried to drag me into a confrontation. I was able to use the flare-up to refine the way the model listens and paces its responses.
I’ve no idea where this kind of experiment is leading—just that it is fascinating and rewarding in itself. I feel very fortunate to have the time, freedom, and resources to explore and play like this.
Katie dropped Zara off this morning.
We were standing chatting in the kitchen while Katie unpacked Zara’s things and updated me on their most recent adventures. With Zara, the stories tend to revolve around chasing wild creatures and finding holes in the ground to follow them down, covering herself in various earthly, often pungent, substances in the process. She seems particularly fond of such activities immediately after visiting the dog groomers.
She’s a wild thing herself.
Currently, the wild thing is relaxing on the dog bed in the kitchen, watching the garden.
As I was listening to Katie, I put my hands in the side pockets of my overshirt and found my wired headphones. I pulled them out and looked at them, sitting in a tangle in the upturned palm of my hand. I’ve been looking for them for two days. I searched our house and next door’s, thinking I might have left them there when we were looking after the cats.
This morning, I eyed the Amazon app on my phone, almost ready to order a replacement.
I’ve been wearing the shirt the whole time.
Sometimes what you’re looking for might seem somehow intangibly out of reach, lost in space and time—and then you realize it was right there with you all along.
In an overlooked or forgotten pocket.
I love that.
The ridiculous nature of being human.
It reminds me of when Jenny was my boss at the school. She had a wonderful habit of losing her glasses and shoes. Or her golden leather bag.
Sometimes, if my memory serves me, she had to drive home in bare feet.
Her glasses were often around her neck or on top of her head.
Maybe today is as good a day as any to celebrate our idiosyncratic natures?
Imperfections that we can put our arms around and welcome with a hug and a laugh.
Our inner hobbits.
Or just being human.
Perfectly imperfect and willing to grow and change and deepen our connection in an often confusing and overwhelming world.
Collectively, we evolve.
Individually, we contribute to the rich diversity of life in our conflicted era.
The message takes many forms.
But the heart remains the same.
Be kind.
A friend to yourself.
And all beings.
However they show up.
Till tomorrow.
Love,
Mikey