on loquats and figs

i was raised under the shade of a loquat tree

if you’ve never had the luxury of experiencing the sun-baked, golden, freckled little fruit, they taste like the first hints of summer.

strong notes of: dreams of upcoming long days in the sun, alternating between biking around the neighborhood with your fellow gang of lanky-limbed, toothy-grinned kids, and cooling off in the neighborhood pool, elusively playing the “Polo” to someone’s “Marco”.

with undertones of: school not being quite out yet, so you find little pockets of fun to pass the time. if you’re lucky, the book fair is emblazoned on the school calendar handout – in Comic Sans, all caps, and with many exclamation points, which is exactly how it feels. you flip through the catalog that somehow always smells the same, eyes darting through the pages of books to come, eager for the real thing since the cherry on top is all the little trinkets to choose from – food shaped erasers, monstrous pens containing every color of the rainbow with just a click, holographic bookmarks of dolphins leaping through turquoise waters.

and a mouthfeel of: the highly anticipated Field Day is coming up – the sign that summer is truly just around the corner. a day of lessons turns into a day of screeching laughter and wheelbarrow races and running on the frenetic energy of the upcoming 3 free, school-less months and all they have in store.

but as summer arrives, the best of the loquats will have fallen and begin to rot in the hot sun, soon to return to the earth. the loquats are here now, sun-kissed to perfection. so you climb up the branches, enjoying the shade of the leaves. you reach for the fruit that’s the color of sunshine, the one with a constellation of brown specks just beginning to form – the formula you’ve perfected for finding the juiciest and sweetest of the bunch. you wipe off the fuzz with your shirt, and sink your teeth in.

i read a great Substack post by Florence Given that summed up so much of what i’ve felt in my life as a multi-passionate person, but especially during these past six months of going where the wind takes me. she includes this quote from The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath:

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story.

From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out.

I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

i’ve always been someone who’s fascinated by and interested in so. many. things. to the point where for most of my life, it’s been paralyzing. i never know what the “right” choice is. if i commit to being a photographer, what if i spend too much time on it only to realize this wasn’t the “right” fit and i was meant to have been learning how to make music this whole time? or writing a book? or learning to paint? or getting into acting again? or finally making a collection of work to table at a craft fair? but i also want to learn like 3 languages so what do i pick??

and often, i felt like the pressure to choose just one thing is so debilitating that i’d rather distract myself and avoid making that decision entirely. but in recent years, i’ve been learning to dabble more. do a painting here, start assembling a poetry book there, make a couple little zines. which has been helpful in releasing the pressure, as if my creativity is a kombucha bottle that got shaken up and is threatening to blow. it’s a slight twist of the cap, letting some air hiss out – letting my creative energy escape in tiny, powerful bursts into the world. but the majority is still bottled up, effervescent and looking for a way to get out.

i think one outlier in these attempts has been these love letters, they’ve made it out of the metaphorical kombucha bottle in a steady stream. they’re the first creative output i’ve remained consistent with (for the past almost year and a half!). i’ve realized it’s helped to have an audience, no matter what size. to have people connect with, react to, or simply take in a piece of something i made. it reminds me of what the point of all of this is. creation isn’t meant to exist in solitude. when it’s in the process of being created, sure, but The Creation itself is really just an attempt at connection. it deserves a chance to be perceived by a world outside of myself. the art that has impacted and inspired me the most throughout my life has always helped me make more sense of the world, feel less alone, and feel more seen and understood by my fellow Earth inhabitants. i remind myself, the words i write and anything i create in any medium, all distills down to this singular pursuit.

so, i think these love letters and in turn, creating a committed practice to my writing, is one of the first loquats i’ve chosen to sink my teeth into. and while i still hunger for every single beautiful golden fruit i see, and each creative endeavor they represent, i’m learning i can only hold so many in my hands. if i pile them too high, they just get dropped, soon to rot in the hot sun and return to the earth. i’m reaching for my next loquat, slowly and surely, trusting my choice.

thank you for being part of this loquat. for whatever brought you here, and for whatever reason you stuck around, i am eternally grateful.

a couple more things to mention:

• i’m now offering some bonus, more inner circle, close homie vibe sunday love letters for $5/month – essentially buying me 1 coffee a month (probably without even the extra $1 oatmilk charge depending where you go). these will be coming out the sundays between the OG (free!) love letters, in the form of audio and video posts. think rambly audio messages from your bestie catching you up on their life, and then they’re like “oh shit this is already 15 min long sorry love you!”. and collage style vlogs that will be a mix of life and poetry and sometimes my face and sometimes clips of my experiences out in the world. i’m stoked to add some more dimension to this project, and would love for you to join me if you are able to!

• i was on my first podcast! my friend Pat has a sick podcast called Bedroom with Patrick Sean Gibson where he chats with Bay Area creatives of all varieties. i’m personally a huge fan of the pod and loved listening to it while working earlier this year, feels like sitting in on a couple friends shooting the shit but in a super creatively inspiring way. on our episode together, we chatted Sunday Love Letters and Pat even read me one of my old love letters – which was extremely trippy but also cool. check it out here:

ok that’s all for now folks! hope y’all have a sweet holiday season with whoever you’re celebrating with. as always, stay cozy. <3

all my love,
coley