Last week passed so fast, I can barely believe that it was real. But I keep the memories of dancing to Rage Against the Machine, the soft embraces of the people I met, the bittersweet goodbyes, and the warmth still lingering in my chest.
Sardinia was a wild mix. Hammock camping in nature near lonely windswept beaches and a house humming with lovely people who came there for The Wormhole Society Gathering 1.0.
Chess every day. A bell rings. Everybody jumps up from their laptops. "One More Time" by Daft Punk starts playing. Another dance party ensues, one more time. Spontaneous interactions like these, that only exist if people are not in a hurry and feel safe enough to show themselves.
The moments of the week blur together as if from a dream, but some stay vivid: the moments when we gave strangers ice cream and flowers. The late-night dance party in darkness, punctuated only by a flashlight and a glittering disco-ball outfit, spots of light on the walls, dancing with us. An improv performance about closing a wormhole, else the worms might escape. I'm happy I was there, that I was part of all this.
I also noticed how much of my shyness is a fence I build for myself. Every time I step over it, life becomes stranger, richer, more interesting. I widen with it too, less afraid to show myself, to take up space. This feels freeing, alive.
But I am not quite ready to tear the fence down yet. That still takes time. It still protects me from the fear of really being seen. The fear still feels real even though experience keeps disproving it, because when I let people see me, good things tend to happen. Yet the fear remains.
After gatherings like this, I also feel a sadness that I can't quite shake. The fact that these tender moments will never occur in the same constellation again hurts, like a dull ache that won't quiet down, no matter how hard I try to ignore it.
People disperse back into their own lives, and we promise each other to meet again. But these promises are fragile because of the uncertainty of our lives. Paths often do not cross again; the next time might never happen. Wormholes close.
This hint of impermanence touches even the most beautiful memories that we can make. The challenge is to have fun regardless, or maybe even because of it. Even if things don't last, we still keep the choice to give things meaning, right here and now. We can create our own wormholes, little bubbles of time and space where we can come together and feel truly alive.
There is a friend whom I always send pictures of flowers when I see some. Now I notice flowers wherever I walk. I stop and appreciate the world a little more. And whenever I do, both of our days get a little brighter.
So, here, enjoy some flowers.
That's all for this time. I hope you found this newsletter useful, beautiful, or even both!
Have ideas for improving it? As always please let me know. You can also just reply to this email and I should get those too :)
Cheers,
– Rico
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