Welcome to the seventh edition of The Detour.
Every Sunday, you’ll receive mind musings from me, Olivia. I’m not entirely sure where we’re going or where we’ll end up. But I’m glad you’re here, and hopeful this little experiment will spark new ideas and make us question what’s next.
If you like what you’ve been reading, it would mean the world if you shared it.
Musings (aka the tunes & text making me think)
Before we dive into this week’s musings, I want to acknowledge that The Detour has been on a two week hiatus. At one point in the not so distant past, I likely would’ve apologized for this inconsistency - but today I’m not sorry.
Although the newsletter hasn’t hit your inbox, I’m living through a Detour. Maybe I’ll write about it at some point - but for now I’ll keep processing and hopefully pressing send on our regular, weekly cadence.
Here are a few songs I think you’ll enjoy:
To welcome sunny, spring weather into your life:
To get your shoulders rolling and your hips swinging:
To help coax you through a good cry:
Plus something(s) to make you think:
There’s something cathartic about good Thai takeout with great friends.
Monday night, between spicy bites of Sweet Potato Massam, the crew laughed at what Kyle aptly called the starter: vaccine status.
So, I’m half vaccinated... Moderna. Didn’t feel any side effects, so pretty stoked.
I’m fully vaccinated (thank you, Science & Pfizer) and as things start to slowly go back to normal, I can’t help but relive the last 14-months.
Remember when quarantine first started? That moment after the panic grocery shopping, where you purchased a 10lb bag of white rice and a chaotic assortment of canned vegetables you never ate. Smoked artichoke hearts. Peas. Corn.
After you stocked up on paper-towels, lysol wipes, hand sanitizer and toilet paper. Or tried to and were met by empty store shelves.
The moment where the initial fear finally settled and you thought “2-weeks of WFH?! This going to be great.” In that moment, we didn’t just trade business casual for pajamas or happy hours for drinking on Zoom, we traded in little pieces of ourselves.
We were forced to take a step back from our social circles, routines, hobbies and our sense of style. While my first few weeks were filled with a lot of sleeping, too much drinking, a good deal of moping and endless athleisure, I’ve emerged with a greater sense of self.
With no scheduled activities, no outfits to wear, or places to be - everything felt more intentional. Every run. Every socially distant encounter with friends. Every pair of jeans I put on.
When time slows down, it wakes you up. It hits you, like a backhanded slap. Suddenly you can’t escape your body or your mind by rushing to the next thing, the next thing, the next thing. And so here you are - inside yourself. It’s an incredible, terrifying place to be, isn’t it?
As restaurants reopen, bar seating remerges, I hope we hold on to some of the intentionality we found in the last year. Because soon we’ll be back and the slow will turn into fast and it’s hard to get out of fast.
If nothing else, I hope we can all agree that there’s a more elegant life to rejoin, after a year of sweats. At least these three bespoke tailors, who happen to be friends and neighbors, think so.
Now for this week’s Detour…
The patio at Mavro Coffee is entirely empty, except for two men in, what I assume to be, their seventies. They’re sharing a bagel with lox, each sipping a cup of black coffee. Sitting in the sun, I stare at their faces, worn and smiling, and in that moment I feel incredibly nostalgic.
For every coffee shop I’ve every worked at. For every group of people I’ve stared at too long. All the conversations I’ve eavesdropped on. Every text message I’ve read, over someone’s shoulder, on the subway. Some would call this being incredibly nosy and I’ll take that analysis, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stifle my endless curiosity about people to be perceived as ‘polite’.
By 10AM the patio is buzzing.
Coffee cups are shuffling in and out of the backdoor. A tall brunette, glides back and forth from her table to the back fence talking about clients and metrics. Despite all the noise, I am writing in a state of focus for the first time in nearly two weeks. As if the movement of all these strangers has cleared a space in my brain for clarity.
Getting back into routine is never easy.
Once a week goes by without writing, a mountain emerges. Part rocky terrain, part excuses. The idea of getting back into a consistent routine becomes a feat… an endeavor that requires a map for the trail, hiking shoes, water, Cliff Bars, sunscreen and lots of planning. In these moments, I forget how simple it is. The act of doing.
Growing up, I often told my dad I wanted to be a writer. His response was always the same. It wasn’t spewing with the enthusiasm and excitement one might expect from a parent. It was matter of fact.
If you want to be a writer - you better write.
As a child, I nodded. As an adult, I realize that becoming something is much less about fun, like an art project, and much more about putting in the work. Spending time on your craft, no matter how bad or disastrous and exhausting it is at first.
You've probably heard of the 10,000 hour rule, which was made famous by Malcolm Gladwell's “Outliers.” The rule goes like this: it takes 10,000 hours of intensive practice to achieve mastery of complex skills and materials, like playing the violin or getting as good as Bill Gates. You’ll also find countless books, articles and studies that destroy, debunk and invalidate the idea that deliberate practice is required to become world-class.
10,000 hours or 1 hour, the truth is: talking about doing things is a lot easier than actually doing the thing. It’s easy to talk about ideas, projects we want to start, instruments we want to play. Executing on ideas, starting projects, practicing an instrument is hard, hard work. Which is why building routine and structures is so important.
Sending a weekly newsletter. Playing open mics. Taking and posting photos every day. Start flexing the muscle of putting things out into the world (stealing this one from a backyard convo with Nick Dio). Create the conditions that turn talking into doing.
It might be as simple as sitting at a coffee shop, or realizing the mountain isn’t as steep or treacherous as your brain would like you to believe. It’s much more like riding a bike. Happy creating.
And with that, it’s time to buckle up & hit the road.
-OO