“I have faith that everything can change.”—Jon Batiste
Hi there,
This is our last issue of The Find for 2023. I cannot believe this year is almost over!
By the time you read this, I will have graduated from Valdosta State University’s Master of Library and Information Science program! Two years of reading, writing, thinking, and learning about new concepts, neglecting my friends and family (sorry, fam!), looking at a screen for far too long—and now, all of a sudden, it’s over.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited, but it’s also strange. After doing something for two years, you get used to it; we can get used to almost anything, even if it’s not ideal. Or perhaps we get used to it when we have an end goal, a goal that will make the struggle worth it in the end. But what happens when the goal is reached? If you’re like me, it’s on to the next. But what would happen if I stopped looking ahead and just enjoyed how far I’ve come?
What is For You
I’m not sure what’s next, and that’s a good place to be. Though it may be hard to believe, I am not a planner. I like to wing it and see what happens, following what interests me and allowing the result to form. I absolutely work hard toward a goal, but I don’t have the next step mapped out after I’ve reached it. This usually results in another goal, another short-term prize to be reached, and on and on.
I’ve always trusted the process; or perhaps I should say, I started trusting the process and trusting life once I got out of my own way. As my wife says, “What is for you, is for you.” If I don’t get the job, it’s not because I’m not worthy, it’s because that position or place isn’t intended for me. If I don’t end up where I thought I would be, it means that there is a plan beyond my control that is taking shape. It may not make sense now, but more will be revealed.
It’s difficult to make sense of the plan when we don’t know where we’re going, when we recognize that the only thing we can control is our response to what arises, rather than the outcome. I like to think that I don’t want to control the outcome, but of course, I do.
And things have felt increasingly uncertain recently, even though I’ve had the certainty of completing my MLIS program. With every step toward finalizing my projects and submitting my last assignments, feeling secure in my footing, life would remind me that life exists on life’s terms, not my terms.
Life on Life’s Terms
On a rainy Saturday, a day like any other day, my wife and I went on an ordinary drive to go to Target to pick up dog food and paper towels. Nothing exciting, a trip we’ve made countless times.
As we were waiting at a four-way stop to enter the parking lot, suddenly a white Prius lunged in front of us, nearly scraping the front bumper. “What the—?” my wife and I exclaimed to each other. The car had come out of nowhere, catching us by surprise, but what happened next was beyond comprehension.
The driver of the Prius, an older white man in a baseball cap, rolled down his window and flipped us off, refusing to move out of the way. My wife leaned on the horn, and the driver moved forward slightly, then stopped. We tried to go around him, and he swerved in front of us. We tried to go right, and he went right. We were stuck.
My wife honked again, and the driver finally turned right, entering the parking lot from a different driveway. My wife drove forward, and as we came up to a stop sign, we could see the driver speeding up through the parking lot to cut us off again, throwing his middle finger out the window once more.
“What is going on? What is this guy’s problem?” we kept repeating. We were mystified as to why the driver was so angry, why he had cut us off and wouldn’t go away. We turned into a different area than we had planned to park, only to see that he was doubling back. My wife had to change course, turning in another direction, as we watched the Prius try to track us and continue his tirade.
When we reached the other side of the parking lot, as far as we could get away from him, I told my wife to back into a spot. Her bumper stickers are recognizable, and this guy clearly wasn’t giving up.
We backed into a spot, and I grabbed the notepad my wife keeps in the center console and a pen, hands shaking, hoping to write down his license plate number. Soon after, the man drove right past, looking for us. “Six, I, B, C,” I read aloud as I wrote down the beginning of the plate. My wife jumped out of the car to catch the rest. She jogged down the row of cars before running back, calling the remaining letters and numbers out to me. “He’s double-parked at the front of Target,” she told me. “I’m calling the police.”
The local police arrived and spoke to us, searching the parking lot, but, as far as we know, he was gone. We finally went into Target and wandered the aisles in shock, deflated. We tried to make sense of what had happened. Maybe one of the bumper stickers had pissed him off?
My wife told me a story of how, when she was a young woman still living in Ohio, she’d had a rainbow sticker on her bumper. One day when she was driving, an occurrence similar to the one we had just experienced happened to her. Except when she was at a stop sign, four men jumped out of the car that had been chasing her and began running right toward her. Thank god she was able to turn out and get away. But she didn’t put a rainbow on anything for many years after.
Last year I shared my hopes for the new year: To be more present, and to maintain an “Awareness of the loss and the light that live alongside one another, simultaneously,” though this duality was (and is) “bewildering to me—how can so much beauty exist at the same time so much wreckage is wrought?” I feel the same way now. But, as I acknowledged last year, this recognition of duality “is also fuel. Things can always get better, and yet, in many ways, they are already good.”
Despite old white men in old white Priuses, things are good. I’m not sure what the universe was, is, trying to tell me, to tell us, but it served as a reminder that I am not in control. How do I respond when things feel out of control? I return to what anchors me. My wife. My dogs and cats. My family. Books. Music. This newsletter. I hope the below serve as anchors, as reminders of the joy and beauty that is always everywhere.
The Final Finds of 2023
This year-end edition features our annual, special roundup of recommendations—music, podcasts, books, gift ideas!—to start the new year off right.
Action. The holidays can be hard, especially in times of conflict. Enter: IfNotNow’s new resource, How to Have Hard Conversations: A guide for discussing Israel/Palestine at your dinner table. This guide centers on compassion, empathy, and listening; we need resources that invite care and dialogue over dismissal and contention, now more than ever.
Give. If you enjoy The Find and are in a position to support this work, why not gift yourself or a loved one with a subscription? $5/month or $50/year gets you cultural commentary and recommendations that highlight the work of marginalized creators, with a focus on Black, indigenous, and/or women of color. Subscriber Gina shares that The Find is “A thoughtful perspective on today’s most pressing cultural and political issues.” Thanks, Gina!
Another great choice for easy-breezy holiday shopping? Snag a Bookshop gift card, which is a great last-minute gift for those you love. It’s digital, so you don’t have to worry about shipping, and who doesn’t love books? (Friendly reminder: I’m a Bookshop affiliate. Full transparency here!)
Listen. It’s here, The Find, Volume 3! All the songs we’ve listened to this year, plus a few more favorites. If you missed last year’s playlist, you can find it here.
My favorite songs this year (also on the playlist!):
“Stay” by NNAVY. Sexy, mesmerizing, and lush.
“Good Thing” by Maple Glider. Epic, haunting, and atmospheric.
“Immune” by Jensen McRae. Emo high school vibes, in the best way.
“Me 2 Me” by Shiv. A potent reminder to trust yourself.
My favorite podcasts this year:
It’s Been a Minute with Brittany Luse on NPR
Dear Alana, hosted by Simon Kent Fung
Scamanda, hosted by Charlie Webster
Louder Than a Riot (Season 2), hosted by NPR Music’s Sidney Madden and Rodney Carmichael
The Witch Trials of J.K. Rowling, hosted by Megan Phelps-Roeper
Watch. American Symphony on Netflix! This documentary follows an especially intense moment in the lives of two of my favorite creators, writer Suleika Jaouad and musician Jon Batiste. It’s 2022, and Batiste is nominated for 11 Grammys; at the same time, his wife, Jaouad, must undergo a second bone marrow transplant to treat the leukemia she had previously been in remission from for a decade. A testament to the power of creativity, the essentiality of faith, and the necessity of love, American Symphony reminds us what it is to live. Both Jaouad and Batiste “see survival as a creative act,” and after watching this film, you will, too.
Read. This year was not one for the books (other than school books, lol), but I tried to read for fun when and where I could (that means in the bathtub). I don’t know what I would do without books. They lift our spirits, open our minds, invite new ways of seeing, solidify perspectives, allow us to both escape and come to grips with reality, and, most importantly, give us hope. As always, you can find all of our recommended reads, plus some bonus books here and there, up on The Find’s Bookshop page:
One of my favorite books this year: Olga Dies Dreaming, by Xochitl Gonzalez. Hailed as one of the best books of 2023 by numerous outlets, this debut novel more than earns its accolades. The book invites us into the lives of Olga, a successful wedding planner, and her brother Pietro, a charming congressman, as they make their way through the upper echelons of New York—when the past comes back to haunt them. Wise, funny, heartbreaking, and galvanizing, Olga Dies Dreaming brims with humanity, tenderness, and inspiration. A must-read!
See you in 2024. Stay safe and have fun!
‘Til next time,
Emma
Congratulations sis. Love you! And keep chasing Priuses ! You are a wonderful and inquisitive woman! Nancy drew life up! Oxo