A Week on Sunday (no. 41)

Reading

Contrast can serve to highlight appreciation for something and this was the case when I was reading Bonnie Tsui’s book On Muscle, and also reading a short story collection by Tatyana Tolstaya. In “Serafin” Tolstaya writes from the character’s point of view of disdain for humanity: “Fat is nauseating muck. The whole world of flesh - is fat. Fatty, sticky children, fatty old ladies, fatty redheaded Magda.” (p 48) But Tsui, focusing on muscle, delves into its various intricacies with an infectious appreciation. Here is a collection of quotes from the book that I liked:

Being a writer as well as a lifelong athlete, I can’t help but notice how language is telling. Muscle means so much more than the physical thing itself. We’re told we need different metaphorical muscles for everything: to study, to socialize, to compete, to be compassionate. And we’ve got to exercise those muscles - putting them to use, involving them in a regular practice - for them to work properly and dependably. (p 4)

The way you build muscle is by breaking yourself down. Muscle fibres sustain damage through strain and stress, then repair themselves by activating special stem cells that fuse to the finer to increase size and mass. You get stronger by surviving each series of little breakdowns, allowing for regeneration, rejuvenation, regrowth. (p 5)

In big ways and small, life is a movement-based relationship with everything around us. Muscles make my fingers fly across these keys, knit my brow in concentration, correct my seated posture, shift my gaze to the window, square my shoulders, tap out the rest of this sentence. So much has become virtual, and yet my body still very physically influences my thoughts even as it conveys them to you. Your own muscles allow your eyes to take this in, to blink thoughtfully and tuck your chin in hand and tilt your head in consideration. We haven’t said a word, but our bodies are talking to each other - even through the page (…). (p 12)

Exerting our influence on the world: That’s the modern-day definition of a flex. (p 13)

Maybe that’s what makes some people uneasy: muscle as potential. And sometimes we don’t know our own power, until, finally, we are given the opportunity to discover it. (p 27)

For all its nobility, the pursuit of mightiness remains grounded in the body and all of its appetites. But the strength community’s insatiable curiosity about the human body is something I find surprisingly moving. To know one’s own strength: I’ve come to understand the meaning of these words not as a binary statement, an “I do” or an “I don’t,” but as an ongoing process of discovery. Muscles matter - they allow us, in an observable way, to see what we can do. Though you may not initially know what you’re capable of, you have vast reservoirs of potential, waiting to be tapped. For just the right moment to be revealed. (p 44)

(…) there is a process in place for human donor dissection, and with that process comes a reverence that helps you to understand the privilege of getting to look. Head, hands, and feet are wrapped before dissection. And at the end of every academic year, a special memorial is held (…). (p 52)

Interoception is your body’s ability to sense itself from inside. (p 142)

All these quotes show a respect for the human body that the character in Serafin does not want to see and both writers make their point with the deft use of language. Words can be so strong…

Cards

Cards are divisive. The postal service has only to go on strike for a debate to flare up dramatically in the news. Cards are important. Cards don’t matter… Cards take time. My grandma could dash off a stack of 80. Or was it 100? But cards are like everything else: cookies and food and Christmas trees…  home-made or store-bought or real or fake. There are hundreds of permutations for celebrating Christmas and just as many ways of dispersing one’s energy for this demanding season. And so with all that in mind, juggling our own list of pros and cons, I made this year’s Christmas cards by hand and cut the envelopes from old wrapping paper. (This envelope tutorial was perfect!) At a time when AI is spinning reality to ever greater heights of improbability, a return to basics felt reassuring and solid. (I think this is what B. Dylan Hollis is getting at in his appreciation of vintage cards here on Instagram.) 

Baking

There’s a Nanaimo bar chilling in the fridge, but earlier this week, I tackled the start of this year’s baking with blondies and brownies…

Eating

Making things a little less demanding in the kitchen while I concentrate on cards and baking, are old favourites, like Jamie Oliver’s “Mini shell pasta with a creamy smoked-bacon and pea sauce.”

Postcards

This week, there were two days featuring a sundog in the sky, and Friday’s was so big, it reflected itself on the windows of the U of M’s Pembina Hall student residence.

Happy Sunday!

Friday Five

I like a snappy list of random things, don't you?

1. It's almost Christmas, and my favourite places to shop in Winnipeg are Black Market Provisions and Toad Hall Toys. These stars look so pretty and tonight, it would be fun to go to a Student Show and Sale. The Events Calendar here feels so festive! Christian and I adopted the idea of keeping a Google Doc of gift ideas for each other from this episode of Hidden Brain.

2. What will you do with your history degree? (I don't know!) However, reading the Canadian Historical Association's report was oddly comforting. Also, people studying history are fewer and fewer in number apparently... 

3. I've started baking, because cookies are delightful and my sister is visiting which is all the more impetus for making things cozy here! (Maybe I’ll try a new recipe?)

4. Last week I spent the days intensively working on a surprise for the family. I'm the kind of person that almost bursts at the thought of having to keep a surprise and avoiding doing so requires an attitude of cool indifference - as if I had to decide to draw a curtain over all the scenes my imagination puts together. And I have lots of imagination! Not enough to write a novel, unfortunately, but enough to amuse myself with silliness. Years ago I took my SLR and photographed made-up scenes using my then-toddlers' toys. I thought that things that made me laugh would be too ridiculous to share and stopped.

5. I've often been paralyzed by the thought of perfection. Drawing has been somewhat therapeutic in this regard. I've been forcing myself to draw a person (whole or just the face) everyday for the past few months after stumbling over myself in the last year and a half. It's more than just accepting that results take practice... it's getting over the enthusiasm of a new idea and accepting that desire for a result must be subdued. Meekly, it becomes a habit and a habit in its purest form should be executed with a kind of simple attention that is light and not grasping or weighed down with expectation. And reaching that mode of working takes its own time and suffers onslaughts of impatience, but that's fine... that's just how it is.