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arbitrary Serenity
Sarah Narei
September 21, 2024
hey friends,
we’re always honest with each other, so i have to share with you that composing this week’s letter was a ~struggle~ for me. i’m not exactly sure what happened, but i crossed some kind of… false finish line? i think last week felt like a high, and this week felt like a “is this as good as it gets?” kind of low. maybe this is something i should explore in this week’s story (which i haven’t even drafted yet, and it’s THURSDAY NIGHT as i’m typing this!)—i think there’s often a “mwah mwah…” moment when a person finally experiences something that’s been long-awaited. this week felt like the day after Christmas when you were a kid, if you were a kid who celebrated Christmas. but yeah. okay. i’ll story-fy this feeling in order to get to The Truth of it. :)
thank you for reading,
—SN
the story
Serenity
one day
he fell out of love
with his life
he thought it best
to speak to The One
who had given him his life
“Serenity,” he called Her
and She heard him
“Art, it’s been a while,” She said
when She appeared next to him
in front of the mirror
that reflected the grand room
that he shared with his partner
in the grand home
that he and his partner shared with their children
She gave him the mirror
She gave him the room
She gave him the partner
She gave him the home
She gave him the children
“yes,” he swallowed
“i’m sorry it’s been so long—”
“no, no
I’m happy
that you’re happy”
“well, that’s just the thing,” he cleared his throat
“ah, what wish may I grant you?” Serenity smiled
Art opened his mouth
but fell silent
and then he started chewing his bottom lip
a habit that he thought he’d left behind
in a different—
in a beta—
in a pre-Serenity—
version of himself
Serenity continued to smile at him in the mirror
while he continued to frown
and try to find the words
to tell Her that…
“it didn’t work,”
the inner corners of Art’s eyebrows knit tighter together
“of course it did,”
the outer corners of Serenity’s mouth spread wider apart
“it didn’t last,”
he turned to Her
a bit more frantic now
“what’s meant to be fleeting
will always be fleeting,”
Serenity shrugged
“can’t you make what’s meant to be fleeting…
last?” he whispered
“of course not, my dear boy!” Serenity giggled
“the thrill is gone
the excitement is done
the race is won
you’ve acquired
you’ve achieved
you’ve won”
“yes, but winning means ending,” Art whimpered
“and i don’t want an…
ending”
Serenity patted his slumped shoulders
“then i guess you should just…
continue”
“but—”
Serenity was gone
the conversation
the question
how will you sustain your sense of purpose after you reach your next pinnacle?
the resonance
someone who somehow always knows exactly what i need to hear at exactly the most impactful time sent me a message earlier this week when my first doubts about what i’m doing -here- started creeping in.
i had a chat with Anthropic’s Claude to interpret her words into a passage for this section. for anonymity i will only include a few snippets of my chat here for context:
me to Claude: “…could you please give me a list of German authors or poets who have a style that would resonate with fans of Dark Academia, autumnal vibes, Gilmore Girls, cozy reads, and warm but slightly edgy literature?…what do you think about writing a short-ish (maybe let's start with 100 or so words) passage that combines Bachmann and Hesse's styles?”
Claude to me: “…I’ll create a short passage of about 100 words that combines elements of Ingeborg Bachmann's melancholic, autumnal feel with Hermann Hesse's contemplative and introspective style, inspired by your friend's note…”
and here it is:
“In the waning warmth of autumn's embrace, I find solace on a sun-dappled terrace. The city's pulse fades, leaving only the whisper of turning leaves. Your words, carried on ethereal waves, bridge the chasm of separation. They paint familiar streets in London's mist, now transposed to Hamburg's shores.
As twilight descends, I don my armor of leather and solitude, a wanderer in search of melodic transcendence. The Elbe flows, a liquid metaphor for time's relentless passage. In this Italian refuge by the river, I am both lost and found – a paradox of presence and absence.
Your voice echoes in the chambers of memory, a balm against the encroaching chill. In this moment of singular existence, I am grateful for the threads that bind us across the tapestry of distance.”
thanks, Claude.
and
thank you,
DeaRest
rEAder.
:)
i had so much fun with this experiment, so i’d love to hear back from more of you! please share with me your thoughts or feelings about anything included in this newsletter—even if it’s like a single word response, e.g. “weird”. or a long tome. or a string of emojis. or an interpretive dance. or a bottled teardrop.
i can’t wait to hear from you.
the curation
a theme of interior design by and for people who love books emerged this week:
from Jennifer Garner’s house tour on YouTube for Architectural Digest—
“This reading nook is maybe my favorite space in the house.”
to a collaboration between children’s book author Eva Chen and West Elm on a furniture and decor collection—
“I wanted to design a collection around the concept of raising readers and being surrounded by books.”
and finally to a feature in Veranda of an eighteenth-century stone farmhouse meticulously redesigned by author and artist Josh Young—
“It wouldn’t be an artist’s home without his works on display, like his signature mixed-media portrait art, hand-drawn botanicals, and Géométrique series on pages of antique books.”
the book club
yeah… i haven’t been reading Gather this week, haha! but we have a few more days remaining in September! i still have time to finish it, right…? hehehe…?
the good stuff
baby puffins are called pufflings, omg. omg. PUFFLINGS! please, please read this incredibly cute, sweet, heartwarming article about how a community in Iceland saves thousands, and i can’t repeat this enough—PUFFLINGS—every year when they get confused by modern lights and can’t figure out how to find their way back to the ocean.
awww!
the affirmations
true Serenity has found you
in that you need nothing more
in that you needn’t become anything more
not all weeks are for growing
some weeks are for continuing
thank you for just being
here and now
with me
-Sarah Narei