Particularly, my own. (Writing. But also thinking.)

And in all this [attempt at] thinking, I have concluded that writing to me, in a sense, is an art. It is a space where I consolidate, and also, conciliate the artist I was as a child with the artist I have become as a slightly-battered yet functional adult. (It is as healing as it is liberating).

And in calling this my art, I want to fully immerse myself in the craft.

Because what is art if not a stamp of the soul?

What is art if not the craft of the artist?

I cannot output soulless text and try to call that an attempt at expression. Mostly because expression, I believe, comes from toiling with the words.

One by one.

In the choosing and the editing.

The writing and the rewriting.

A few week ago, I read an Op-Ed by Anastasia Berg on the New York Times that kept replaying in the back of my mind. Beautiful words that reflected on AI, and its impact on our ability to understand and create writing. She wrote:

“We grasp the very contours of our world in and through language.

But we are not born with a language. We have to acquire and develop our linguistic capacities through immersive practice with other human beings. For hundreds of years, in advanced societies this has meant cultivating an intimate familiarity with human writing.

….No aspect of cognitive understanding is perfunctory.”

And it became mind boggling to realize we are no longer writing.

If writing is a form of thinking….are we thinking less when we offload this activity to LLMs?

I’d say I think so. All it takes is a quick stroll through social media (LinkedIn, yes, I am mainly talking about you) to convince me.

No one can argue that reading posts everywhere has become extra+particularly+painfully glib and shallow; finding oddly unwavering words everywhere that now make me think: bla. Few posts feel authentic. Those which do, are super enjoyable to read.

When the thinking has been offloaded to a machine, it is very obvious, mostly because it all sounds the same. It reminds my of The Giver’s colorless descriptions of the world; perfect and orderly, seemingly crisp, but in reality just soulless and bland.

And whenever I read soulless text that evidently did not come out from a person’s mind, but rather from a pattern made up of everyone’s writing on the Internet: a prediction based on all the texts out there, both the good and the bad, I can immediately tell. Because what happens when you take everything that is out there, both good and bad?

You get average.

And I decided I do not want to be average. As I was reading Anastasia’s essay, I was reminded of what beautiful writing can look like. (Do not get me wrong. I know my writing is far from beautiful, but it is an honest view of what I am thinking.) I want to express, but also feel, with my writing.

Which is why I will not use LLMs for lattes & wine (not that I did it before, but I did rely on it for the editing part of the job) and instead I will dare to publish words that might come out to be below average. Or worse. But they will be mine. And that, all on its own, will make it slightly better.

Here’s hoping.

I want to start June’s taste with a quote from Ocean Vuong’s The emperor of Gladness, the book on my nightstand.

What Ocean is saying basically is that memory shapes our whole existence, gives life meaning, but also takes up the time and space where life is actually happening. I decided to write this post, even when June happened like a million years ago. I needed to give June the space it deserved. It needed to be remembered, even at the cost of life itself, because it came with important lessons.

June was a roller coaster of emotions. Emotions normally felt when a cycle is ending, and a new one is about begin. It was a very chaotic month, mostly because I underestimated the effort required to pack your life in boxes.

However, this whole pack-your-life-endeavour and chaos, came with important teachings. Other than “moving is hard”, that is.

Let me share:

1. I want to feel light through life.

To store, sell, donate or get rid of things.

Packing my life in boxes was harder than anticipated.

So much more.

It felt like a well that kept filing up. Endless piles of things I have accumulated over the years.

Packing my small apartment into a million cardboard boxes had me questioning my life choices, and seriously eyeing the minimalist/monk route. Nothing kept around if not with a clear purpose for its existence. You know, the Marie Kondo approach to things.

The Kondo Marie framework does not, however, address the emotional tax that comes with deciding what to do with your things. To store, sell, donate or get rid of things? Nor does it tally in the effort required to execute any of those 4 actions. It is exhausting.

To let go of things is an exercise on its own. Being able to think with abundance, and release them into a second life, is unnatural. Counterintuitive, even. But that had to happen. I had to fit my life into 2 suitcases and 2 carry-ons, which does not leave space for the nice-to-haves. This space constraint leaves only room for essentials.

The lesson here I guess is: Marie Kondo is right, people. She is very right.

Do yourselves a favor and listen to her. Go get rid of stuff. Thank me later.

2. Semiannual cleanses are now officially a mandatory thing in my life.

Every once in a while, I like to do cleanses. Getting rid of unnecessary things. But every once in a while, apparently, is not enough.

I have a new rule: semiannual mandatory cleanses.

Not only does this meet me where I am, I like things. I like beautiful things, and will most probably not be able to achieve a monk/like minimalist lifestyle. However, I am now a firm believer that storing things that are not used is futile and brings bad juju with it. I will definitely book time, twice a year, to get rid of things that are not serving any purpose (joy IS a purpose). And every time something new comes into my house, something must come out.

I have an advantage over other girls out there. I am not particularly excited about clothes. I love looking good, yes. But fashion tires me out. I like reliable, classic, capsule/closet worthy pieces. It might feel bland, but I like black. I do not need color in my clothes. I look for color in my life (ha! or so I say).

3. Changes, spaces, uprooting.

Its funny how routines begin to dictate identity. I guess this happens because we are not what we continuously do becomes who/what we are. Dr. Huberman was a great episode on how one hour of focused, intentional work can create a difference in you identity. Highly recommend it. Identity shifts occur through consistency, so our routines become key. If you want to become something, repeat it enough times that your brain rewires identity around it.

This makes you really question how you are using your time, where you are placing your attention and focus.

And in some way, our spaces also dictate our routines. And since our routines — according to Huberman and oh so many research papers— dictate who we become, then our spaces dictate our identities as well. And it makes sense, right? That is why leaving places: apartments, cities, jobs even, seem to have such an impact in who we are.

This could also explain why it can be hard to change the place we call home. To actually let go of the being that we so effortlessly built over repetition and familiarity within a space and location. It is a process that entails a speck (or a LOT) of grief.

Yet, uprooting yourself creates space.

Space for reflection, for new things, for invention and reinvention. To redirect our ship towards the place we want to get to, instead of aimlessly navigating the waters of routine.

4. Planting something for growth.

We planted a tree! It was a very symbolic moment, aiming to represent that whatever is coming next, is just the begining.

5. Egg freezing = tortuous form of pink-tax life-insurance

I think this deserves a whole essay on its own. I really want to take the time and vulnerability needed to dissect what going through a round of egg freezing made me think, feel, and resent.

But until that essay gets written, I’ve decided to share a synopsis. You know. A glimpse of the experience.

Oocyte cryopreservation is a process that, much like its name, takes you down dark roads. Like Marissa Cox explains in her essay French for infertility: Part 1: “it takes a toll on your physical and mental health - it brought out the worst in me. The experience magnified my fears and exposed parts of myself I hardly recognized”. Read her whole experience here.

Rue Rodier

French for infertility: Part 1

A quick, no pressure reminder…If you’d like to gain FULL ACCESS to my archive of wardrobe, homeware and travel edits, including my Little Black Book of Paris addresses, a subscription works out at just €5 a month (instead of 6€) if you sign up to the yearly membership (that’s only 1.16€ a week — less than a croissant…

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a year ago · 60 likes · 5 comments · Marissa Cox

For me, cryopreservation is merely an insurance. The prime I decided to pay because I am a 35 year-old woman who has decided not to reproduce. Yet? Or ever? I can’t say for sure.

The small, possibility, of motherhood is something I wanted to give to my future self: the option to decide if this were something I decided to pursue in the future. A back up plan in case I decide that motherhood is something I do want for myself and my “February 1st milestone” has piled up to the point of barrenness.

Your chances to reproduce diminish as you age. That is not something new. However, this process really made me resent the fact that I had to choose and had to go through it, while men, do not. It is the first time in my life that I have truly felt a biological unfairness that put me in a disadvantage vs. my male peers.

I was angry. And, at the same time. I was thankful.

Thankful that this process now exists (however horrible it is), is somewhat affordable, and can make the improbable, possible.

6. Running does not create happiness. It creates space for it.

I took a few days off running this month, which made the chaos harder to endure. I did not stop working out, just had to dial down to low-impact sessions. And every time you stop doing something you love, you realize you love it not because of the activity per se, but because it makes you a better person overall.

I stumbled upon this quote from Joshly Not on Instagram. It sums up why running is something that I prioritize and consider a privilege to do. Running is awful. But it creates the space, mentally and physically, that brings your better self to the rest of your life. It just dots the i’s and crosses the t’s. Why? Not sure? There is something primitive about running that does not happen doing pilates. For sure.

7. Nobody is thinking about you.

Go do the damn thing.

Go do the damn thing.

• Grand overarching chaos. Boxes and piles of things. To-do’s and emotional mayhem.

• Bouts of nostalgia. For the things I did and the things I did not do.

• Bursts of anxiety - For what’s coming next. How to best prepare. How to make the most of this next new era.

• A little excitement. - Just a little. The whole process has been taxing, emotionally. It has left little space for excitement. My to-do list is currently taking up too much space, a whack-a-mole of things that NEED to be done, and has left little space for other things to be felt. First come, first serve kinda mode right now.

It’s a concoction of emotions; the all-encompassing anticipation that builds when you are about to close doors.

To open others.

The kind of emotional bedlam you’d expect when you're packing your life in cardboard boxes getting ready to move to another country for grad school.

Note: It's funny how we can fit our lives into boxes, just to be stored away. The whole concept deserves an essay on its own. “Our lives in stashes”, I’m going to title it.

Now. Back to the theme of this essay.

Grad school. The beginning of an era.

Anyone who has gone through this process will not let me lie. Applying to graduate school forces you into a position of reflection. Not only because you are asked to sum up who you are, what you’ve done, and what you’d like to do, in as little as 350 words. But also because it forces you to really understand yourself and what makes you unique and worthy.

I had never really put careful thought (the definition of reflection, right?) into my business school decision. It was just something I knew I wanted to do. Why? I guess it was something I owed to myself, so I did not really question why I was doing it.

That is, until that unfortunate interview.

Let me give you a little bit of context:

When I enrolled in design school, I was aware this career choice would, in a way, leave my business skills underdeveloped. I decided back then that I would deliberately address that asymmetry by going to business school. Then, after my short-term assignment with the credit card team at Citi’s headquarters in New York City, I came back with a new business perspective and redoubled my determination to study an MBA. For me, the Global Talent Development program provided a glimpse into the growth that pursuing an MBA could offer.

And so, the process began:

I applied for a spot in COMEXUS-FULBRIGHT, a scholarship awarded to Latin American students who wish to pursue graduate studies in the US. This scholarship is granted prior to actual program applications.

As I moved forward to the interview round, I was surprised by a question I did not anticipate to get:

“Why would you want to study an MBA if students aspire to have positions like yours after graduation?”

///As a note, I was working as an SVP at a bank at that moment, a position that apparently made business school look like a weird decision to make at the moment.

Oh, my goodness. They do? - First thought.

PANIC. - Second thought.

Improvise. - Third thought.

I’d be lying if I told you I remember what I answered, but what I do recall was knowing both the committee and I knew that the answer was BS. I knew I wanted to go to business school, but I did not know why other than understanding that a good design leader benefits from being well-rounded in business and technology.

Needless to say, I did not get the scholarship.

However, the question really incited a deep reflection on why I wanted to suddenly pause a, somewhat, “successful career”.

And I did just that. I deferred my applications and went deep to my core to understand why I wanted to do this, and even considered if I wanted to do this at all.

And I did. (Things clicked when I imagined myself at 80, looking back on my life. I realized that not trying would be something I’d regret and that would haunt me forever.)

And once I understood my WHY, it became easier to understand how the things I’ve done and achieved actually do build a cohesive story that leads to business school.

But perhaps, most importantly, is that now I know what I want to get out of school. Or at least I think I do.

Business school has never been just about advancing my career. It really is about building a strong, business foundation for meaningful work that resonates with who I am. And also, with what I’ve done so far.

What I know for sure is that I am not looking to pivot nor start from scratch. I want to take the foundations I have built through the years and construct something awesome on top of that.

After all, it's taken sweat, blood, and tears to get to this point.

We are not throwing that away.

Here’s to the first week of grad school! Upwards and onwards.

What could possibly make my namesake, Anaïs, so worthy of a song?

And after some light research, I soon realized that her words made her worthy of the song. (We not only shared a moniker, but also a love for words).

In fact, one of her quotes that actually got lattes & wine started in the first place:

How powerful.

To believe that in writing, we relive.

That in retrospect there’s a revival.

And I've found this to be very poetic, but also very true. Writing, (or attempting to write, that is) not only helps me find intelligibility through reflection, but also gives a new flavour to the experience.

Making the experience permanent through words gives it a new meaning.

I’ve come to call it clarity.

I like to think of this process as the untangling of convoluted thoughts that, like knotted yarn, seem to have no beginning and no end, until each thread reveals its path and direction, now ready to be knit.

So, yes. In writing, I have found the spindle of my mind. One that helps me process, make sense of, and find meaning in what I've lived.

Writing threads my thoughts.

So, when May came to an end, I wanted to wrap up the month with things I discovered, lived, and experienced… in an attempt to —you guessed it—taste life twice.

And, so I made a list.

I love lists. (They help clear the clutter as well).

To Taste May, Twice.

1. Not being in a hurry.

No need to say much more. This just deserves a place on the top of this list.

It is the first time, since 2009, that I am not in a hurry. Which is why I wrote a whole essay on this feeling here. And I have to admit it, even coffee tastes different.

Yet, I want to be in a hurry, my body feels something is off without the rush, but it has been so refreshing. It has also awakened old demons, but I am not complaining. I feel ready to face them now.

2. Life does not wait.

(“la vida no esperaaaaa”- lyrics to a song that gets me through tough trainings. Vida Nueva By Pablo Pablo).

Life just happens. One moment you're starting the week, the next you're wondering where it went. Life moves fast when you're not looking.

Which is just what happened between the end of May and today. This post was meant to be the first of a series, published on the first day of the month…which slowly turned into halfway through the month. In a blink of an eye.

And as the years begin to add up, the idea of procrastinating things feels like the path for having life just slip by.

So ready, or not, here I go. And I plan to be looking.

3. The Tell by Amy Griffin

This was one of those books you pick up and cannot put down until it's done. I guess it hits a nerve as a runner and overachiever. There’s a deeper, more complicated underlying theme around abuse that provides a much more relevant topic to discuss: the author’s vivid journey in healing and shedding light to fight and prevent abuse.

However, there is something that touches all of us who have found a refuge from something, whatever that might be, in running.

I loved it. A real page-turner.

4. Oprah’s book club.

I don't know why it took me so long to actually follow Oprah's book club on Instagram. The books that I have stumbled upon that happen to have made the list are outstanding. I’ll make sure I now intentionally include them in my next book selections.

Upcoming next: The Emperor of Gladness.

5. Nail concealer.

Did you know this is a thing!? I did not, and I wish I had.

The discovery deserved to make it to the list. Game changer, at least for me.

I have complicated hands. It’s almost impossible to make them look good, because I have very wide nail beds, and anything other than professionally applied ballet slipper-pink polish makes my nails look like M&Ms.

The thing with pale pink polish: it requires a steady hand to apply, which I DO NOT have.

Nail concealer is just that; beautiful ballet slippers polish, but made for application by dummies.

I. Love. It.

Makes my hands look polished (get it?) with low effort (or is it skill? Talent?). No more gel appointments that drain my non-employed finances.

Kids, tell your mothers. Nail concealer changes lives.

6. If you are not smiling you're doing it wrong.

7. The World’s Best Boss.

“I bought this for myself”.

It would be wrong if I did not give this part of me, a space on this list. I have missed my team every single day. The laughs. The tears. The sweat.

I miss the unsolicited life lessons that come with having talented people come to you for guidance.

I would have guessed that what I would be missing really, would be the “boss-lady” part of my personality that I began to mistake with my whole identity. “Who am I? Well, I lead the design team at XXXX”.

But I was wrong. It is not the title.

I miss the people.

The jokes. The mishaps.

And knowing that with every interaction, we were making ourselves grow.

8. The Wedding People

A light book with an underlying reflection of mid-life career relationships, motherhood and infertility, infidelity, depression, and marriage can take on any person. And also, how to rise above these topics, and begin to enjoy life without these societal expectations we often carry with ourselves.

9. Mr. Clean Magic Erasers for cleaning sneakers and running shoes.

Squeaky. Just try it. Thank me later!

10. Done is better than perfect.

Lattes & wine was never conceived as a space for perfection. It was conceived as a space for active reflection. Yet, the perfectionist in me quickly gets stuck into attempting to make the writing— perfect. The wit – irresistible. The reflection – profound and awe striking.

And here, I find myself, reminding myself that that this is a space for pure expression, in all its imperfection.

Writing is not about striving for perfection but embracing the lack thereof as a foundation for creating change and growth.

Repeat after me-

Writing is not about striving for perfection but embracing the lack thereof as a foundation for creating change and growth.

No Outlook reminders for a meeting that should be happening soon.

Just waking up.

No rush.

No alarms.

No annoying chymes budging into those last delicious minutes of fully restorative deep-sleep. You know the ones…

Slow mornings set up the stage for having a great day.

It's like having space allotted to cherishing the art and craft of rituals that mark the beginning of the day:

1. Coffee, obviously.

2. Running, usually.

Rituals that get your ducks in line for the rest of the day.

And they are especially exquisite after living in a hurry for years, rushing in a futile attempt to make the most of the 24 hrs we get each day. Spreading ourselves thin, but justifying our constant hustle by introducing productivity hacks, quirky alarms (...I’ve actually tested plenty. I could probably write an article to review them. The verdict? None of them make waking up easier if you’re running on a sleep deficit), meditation, and multi/tasking to try to make the most out of the day. All in a desperate attempt to outpace time.

Today, three weeks into life without a corporate job, I’ve realized something:
Slowing down matters.
Especially for reflection and growth.

In fact, I might be living proof that:

“Sometimes the fastest way forward is to pause.”

To pause?

Or is it to breathe?

To savour? Listen? Enjoy? Sip? Run? Jog? Walk? Breathe once again?

For high achievers, this kind of slowing down doesn’t come easily. We seek pressure as proof we’re on the right path. Anxiety becomes fuel. It’s crazy, I know, but that’s how we “thrive”. It is how we’re wired.

But this thriving is actually a coping mechanism in disguise. Which is why one of the hardest lessons one can learn as a type-A individual is that not taking time to recover and pause and reflect, (and all of the other verbs listed above) usually backfires (and whatever is under disguise, suddenly rebels).

In running, I have found both liberation and joy, a moment where my mind and body align with a shared purpose. I loved feeling that I could push myself. But in doing so it became my greatest teacher: after my first marathon, I pushed my body too far and was sidelined with a serious injury, pubalgia. The prognosis: I’d never run long distances again.

While attempting to recover from this injury, I learned to find joy in the journey and to recognize that growth actually comes not from pushing harder but from embracing limits.

Still easier said than done. But-oh-so conspicuously true.

So yes. If running has taught me anything, it's that you have to slow down to speed up. (I take my zone 2 training VERY seriously. Ask my husband how angry I get if he dares to speed up on our easy runs.)

And with this new mindset, I have turned challenges into sources of strength, and managed to complete my second marathon, faster and stronger, 10 years after a very dire diagnosis, making my Boston Qualifying dream as something that could just be…possible?!

Getting injured taught me that running is a privilege, one that should not be taken for granted. So, as I ran through the finish line at the San Diego Half last weekend, I poured my heart out in every step, through every hill and every downhill (as the course giveth, the course taketh, once again). I kept repeating my coach’s words: the race starts when you’re done with the first 15 kms. And when I got there, I knew: I was still strong. Still in it. I had run my race and kept a pace that I never thought possible for my body, much less during 21 km. I finished proud but also stunned. I had paced myself at what seemed impossible a few years back. And now, Boston suddenly seems feasible this year.

At least, here’s hoping.

And in an attempt to NOT jinx it, I’m just focusing on the sheer joy of the process: the privilege of running, the steady progress, and the well-earned latte after each training session.

And it has been great. But at the same time, I can tell my system is missing something.

Structure. I guess…

Stress? I second guess.

And oddly enough, this got me thinking about wines. (Again?!.)

Yes. Again. Let me explain:

The most extraordinary wines are the result of stress. Vines that face just the right amount of adversity manage to create a drink that goes beyond fermentation and becomes EXPRESSION…

Expression of the land, the weather, the vine, and the people who shaped it.

I think there is something wise, beautiful even, behind the fact that the best wines derive from a vine that is stressed, from lack of water, extreme temperatures, arid soils, wind, putrefaction, and ice.

Could it be that my constant stressed-self is actually an attempt to produce my most extraordinary work? To find the means for utmost expression?

Maybe I am just trying to justify the fact that I tend to be constantly under pressure (there’s always something to stress about, right?) as the only way to get my carbon-y self transformed into shimmery, sparkling, GIA-worthy diamond. I know, comparing myself to a GIA-certified diamond might be a stretch. But isn’t that what we’re all secretly hoping for? That after the pressure, after the stress, we emerge cut, polished, and kind of irresistible?

But in all seriousness, great wines thrive with just the right amount of stress. Too little or too much, are equally harming. You might have all conditions set up for extraordinary wine, but if that year, it rains more than it should, or less than expected, then the wine will not be optimal.

And the same goes for me. Putting myself under too much stress, physically or mentally, does not derive in the results I expect. Instead of shiny, shimmery work, I get injured, burned-out unhappiness.

This brings me to something I’ve overlooked for too long: the importance of recovery.

Rest is super important. Vines go into a sort of hibernation after harvest. They literally go to sleep and wake up in the spring, ready for another cycle. That downtime is part of what allows them to thrive again.

And maybe this is the analogy I’ve been needing.

Maybe I should think of this time off from my career as dormancy. This time of reflection is only preparing me for another, more incredible cycle.

I realize there is a lot I can learn from vines. Rest isn’t the opposite of productivity. Reflection, rest, and recovery is just as important as pushing ourselves hard. It’s how we grow from the push.

Because in the end, the truth is nothing great comes from comfort zones. Changing the world requires some sort of stress, and if we want to create exquisite wines, the vines must fight for their lives. And I will be looking to thrive with just the right amount of stress. It's how we come up with our greatest work. It’s how we become our best version, shimmer and sparkling.

I need to start thinking of life in terms of cycles.

Inhale…

Plum. Hibiscus. Forest? Mushrooms?

Inhale again. Yes, mushrooms.

Sip. Sense. Slurp. Swallow.

Still plum. Still hibiscus. Wet rock. No mushrooms.

Deciding to pursue a sommelier certification felt frivolous, pedantic even, for someone whose work had absolutely nothing to do with wine, wine pairing, nor entertaining.

What value could the 150 hours dedicated to this pursuit bring to my career? – people asked.

Probably nothing, was my answer (which honestly, was also part of the appeal).

Yet, I have always understood that growth comes from leaning into the unfamiliar and I tend to believe that purpose derives from “the human psyche continuously asking us to grow, to develop, to explore, to be curious (J. Hollis)”.

And so, I decided I wanted to be curious about one of the things I enjoy doing the most: drinking wine.

At the time, it looked like it would serve no purpose – other than hedonism, that is.

Little did I know that I was wrong.

In drinking and studying wine I have found parallels in learnings from the past 8 years leading teams. Let me share one that stayed with me in recent months.

Terroir is everything. (And in business, especially so.)

Terroir? It’s the fancy french word that means everything around the grape that helps it grow and impacts its expression:
the sun,
the rain,
the ground,
the wind,
the temperature,
and even if it's on hills or flat ground.

Everything around it. Everything.

All possible factors that might impact how grapes grow.

Terroir in business is the culture, the infamous “work-environment”.

And, let’s be honest, the people make the culture. And culture always starts at the top.

Leadership is an action, not a title. It’s what you do or choose not to do.

I won’t go on a culture rant (that’s an essay of its own), but here’s what I’ve learned: People do their best work when trust, open communication, assertive feedback allow the right person to work in the right challenge. If one of these things goes missing, then work becomes unbearable at worst, unmotivating at best. In wines, the wrong vine with too much or too little of something will not thrive.

I used to see my "human" leadership style as a weakness. Now, I realize it is actually my greatest strength. (Afterall, we are all human.)

By understanding people’s motivations and using it to fuel their best work, I aim to inspire teams to collaborate and tackle challenges with passion and creativity. I learned that leadership is not about striving for perfection but embracing the lack thereof as a foundation for creating change and growth.

My “human” mindset has enabled me to turn obstacles into opportunities by connecting the right people to the right purpose. Including myself. Yet, one must also understand that sometimes the “terroir” is not the right one for the vine, and that, try as you may, it will not thrive. Much less, produce extraordinary wine.

And, while feeling like a Pinot Noir (delicate and sensitive), I acknowledged that the actions were not resonating with myself. The terroir was not the right one for me. And it helped me know when to let go.

And in this way, my Era as a Design Manager came to an end, bringing with it so many lessons and learnings I am yet to process and reflect on. In the meantime, these words from an essay by Darren Walker (the president of the Ford Foundation) in the NYT wrap up my current thoughts:

We must acknowledge that the responsibility rests on all of our shoulders, in the ways we lead, in the ways we choose our leaders, and in the ways we allow ourselves to be led.

I recently took a liking to studying words and their meanings. No surprise here. I’ve always liked words. Especially when written.

Books.

Articles.

Novels.

Poetry. (I’m including Taylor Swift lyrics here).

Essays. (I particularly like writing these).

Just to be clear: I did not wake up one day with an avid desire to study words. I started studying words because I made the decision to move forward with some milestones I had “defined” for my life (cof. cof. Yes, I am talking about you GRE), and setting myself up for success included expanding my vocabulary; which basically meant learning new words, their meaning, and their use within context.

And I loved it. I created over 500 study cards. Ran while listening to word podcasts. Read the New York Times and paused to look up every word I did not know. Created ridiculous mnemonics. For weeks. Or months (or was it years? I can’t even remember. Let’s keep it at a very loooooong time).

These days, I’ve been thinking about one particular word: conjunctural.

This word, apparently, describes something as being related to or caused by a "conjuncture," which is a combination of events or circumstances, often a critical or decisive one.

In life, such events and circumstances often happen in what we call accidents: Had I not left late for work, I would not have crashed. Had I not drank too much, I would not have made that terrible decision. Had we not taken that tour, we might not have fallen off the cliff. You get it.

We can often go back to that precise moment where things went awry. That exact decision that marks a before and an after. The decisive moment that changes everything for you. The conjuncture.

With accidents, however, you are not aware those decisions will become pivotal in your life. Which is why we can only choose to accept them and learn from them. (And rely on the good ol’ “Things happen for a reason” to attribute some responsibility to forces other than ourselves).

Yet, there are times in life where those decisive choices are ours to make. When you are tasked with opting between going one path or the other, knowing that either option will change everything about life as you know it can feel….taxing. Especially when both options seem GREAT options.

I am aware that I am always one decision away from a totally different life, but KNOWING IT, gives it a completely different color.

I’ve read books that have helped me through these conjunctural times in my life.
(What’s the conjunction, you might ask? More on that in later essays.)

And, at the risk of sounding witchy, but fully leaning into my pantheism, I truly believe some books land in our hands for a reason. They’re trying to tell us something.
(Readers out there, you know what I mean, right?)

Here’s what I think these books came to tell me (no spoilers, I think):

1. The Midnight Library - Matt Haig

The Midnight Library has really provided an accurate analogy to what I wish I could live at this moment: understand the different paths and read through the outcomes. In the book, the main character Nora, finds herself in a library that exists between life and death. This library, overseen by her childhood librarian Mrs. Elm (in my life this would be Miss Patsy, my childhood librarian at JFK), contains an infinite number of books, each representing a different path her life could have taken based on choices she might have made. The thousands of different stories that would lead her to live different lives had she made different decisions.

Through reading these different volumes of her life, she gains insights into the impact of her choices and the interconnectedness of her actions and relationships. Nora comes to understand that no life is perfect and that embracing her current existence, with all its imperfections, holds its own value and potential for fulfillment.

I really longed for my Midnight Library, to be able to read the different stories I would live if I were to choose option A or option B, and based on those outcomes. Make a decision aligned to what I want. Now, here’s the trick. Our consciousness usually thinks it wants something, but actually needs something else. Reading those books could maybe shed some light on what I hope to live today, but not necessarily consider what I need to live to actually become my highest self.

Message: Whatever I choose will be the right choice. Always.

2. Signs: The Secret Language of the Universe - Laura Lynne Jackson

This one is a spiritual book that explores how the universe and our loved ones who have passed, communicate with us through everyday signs. The author is a psychic medium, and shares personal stories and client experiences that suggest we are constantly surrounded by messages meant to guide and reassure us of the correct path we must choose in order to live our highest version in our lives.

Message: The risk sounding ridiculous and witchy is outweighed by the feeling of having a communication channel with the Universe. I asked for my signals and I got them. I now trust there’s a team out there looking out for my cute and sorry ass. I believe they will show me how to live my highest path.

3. Maybe in another life - Taylor Jenkins Reid

The story follows a young woman named Hannah, who returns to her hometown and faces a pivotal choice: leave a party with her best friend Gabby or stay with her high school sweetheart, Ethan. The narrative splits into two parallel stories, each explaining the consequences of each choice, examining themes of fate, love, and the idea that multiple versions of ourselves can exist in parallel.

The theme that sparked the most reflection from this book definitely has to do with Quantum mechanics and the Many Worlds Interpretation (which I understand vaguely and superficially). Basically, what I understand of this theory is that just like particles can exist in multiple states at multiple times at once, every time a decision is made or an outcome occurs, the universe splits, creating alternate realities where each possibility plays out. This means that multiple versions of "you" could be living out different choices in parallel universes. It’s a mind-boggling but fascinating idea that challenges our understanding of reality. Free will even, because everything that could, is?

I highlighted the part of the book where a character explains this complex idea:

“I was really taken with this one theory that states that everything that is possible happens. That means that when you flip a quarter, it doesn’t come down heads or tails. It comes up heads and tails. Every time you flip a coin and it comes up heads, you are merely in the universe where the coin came up heads. There is another version of you out there, created the second the quarter flipped, who saw it come up tails. This is happening every second of every day. The world is splitting further and further into an infinite number of parallel universes where everything that could happen is happening. This is completely plausible, by the way. It’s a legitimate interpretation of quantum mechanics. It’s entirely possible that every time we make a decision, there is a version of us out there somewhere who made a different choice. An infinite number of versions of ourselves are living out the consequences of every single possibility in our lives.”

Message: Whatever I choose will be the right choice. Because in both versions of the future, one thing remains constant: my team [my husband Ruy…and Porfirio) of course] is by my side.

I know, many years later, feel that lattes and wine are still present in my life, maybe more so than I ever thought they would be.

Lattes and wine are symbols for looking for deep enjoyment in life’s mundane moments. They are both my teachers and my students.

Lately, I’ve been feeling a drive to find a space for deep expression. I’ve always felt fire for words, their meanings and expressing one’s thoughts through language. However, this fire was reduced to ashes in my teenage years, as poetry and literature were not the most popularity inducing activities a teenager could engage in.

What a shame, I know.

But the drive is back. Not for writing the poetry, but to cherish the words of those poets who valiantly decide to pour their hearts in words available to others.

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