Burrowing
immersing in books and delighting in old animations
The darkness of the winter is made better by being an evening writer. Everything changed for me years ago when I stopped trying to write in the morning and started listening to my inner creative rhythm: when it’s dark, I write.1
My mind is full from the day and the only thing sensible to do with it all is to write something, anything. A line, a letter, a little idea that I’ll forget about and then harvest my notes when I need it most.
Sometimes I forget that I’m an evening writer and instead I scroll and float around in ambient internet. This is when you’re just surfing, scrolling, numbing, postponing, laughing at videos and an hour passes… But it’s also when you look honestly at your life and see sharply the omnipresence of the screen and internet. Digitally floating can be a beautiful way of immersing in interests, but for me it so quickly slips into drowning in information.
I think of it like sugar: I don’t want to be dependent on it or use it for numbing. I want eating sweets to be a moment of pleasure and presence, and an intuitive part of my life (like, today is a day for a donut!).
So, I’m in a long practice of more intentionally consuming information and media and cutting my input way down. I’ll keep beating my drum about what I see in myself and clients every week: although useful/magical/necessary to a degree, these screens with constant consumption and connection drown out the creative impulse more than we realize.
But it’s true, some nights just aren’t writing nights. That doesn’t mean I need to fall down a hole of aimlessness media consumption, either. This Gentle Musings is to share some of what I’ve been intentionally reading and watching lately, media that is bringing me delight and meaning. The key word is savoring.
Watching
I have been LOVING my cutie little CRT TV. I’ve never owned a tv and even though this is tiny and lower pixel, I get it… watching a show or movie on the tv just hits different than the laptop. Maybe it goes without saying, but I also see watching old animations as a direct push back against the plummet in quality of shows and movies and AI.
My favorite thing lately has been watching animations. Normally, shows are relaxing but dull my creative energy, whereas animations are outrageously inspiring and feel like a kick in the butt to make something daring. And I can’t get over the visuals… here is “A Nap és a Hold elrablása” (The Kidnapping of the Sun and the Moon), a gorgeous Hungarian animation:
I watched 101 Dalmatians after, which has a stunning opening sequence that reminded me of a scene from the Hungarian one…
“Stop!! wstęp wzbroniony” (Stop!! Entrance Prohibited) and “Butterfly R.I.P. 1975” were some of the most inspiring creative works I’ve seen in a while. There are so many other great ones like “Сказка сказок” (Tale of Tales), which I hadn’t seen in a decade, “Tolmuimeja” (Vacuum Cleaner), and “Jenitba” (Marriage) (nsfw). Most of these can be found rarefilmm.com, The Cave of Forgotten Films.
I’ve loved having animations playing in the background with different music over top. Like when hanging out with friends the other weekend, we had the Soviet version of Winnie-the-Pooh on, which is magical:
On my list for the rest of the month is to have New York City Ballet’s Nutcracker on the screen while Christmas music plays and some flowery movies I’ve noted down from Flowers in Cinema (fellow flower lovers, this is your place).
Reading
I just finished reading Hold Nothing, the latest creation by Elena Brower. If you’re new to Elena’s work or not yet subscribed to her Substack, you’re in for a treat. She’s been a dear teacher of mine from afar for years now, with her embodiment of teachings leaving an indelible mark on how I show up in so many areas of life. This year I’ve had the privilege of being supported and witnessed by her in many breakthrough moments around self-doubt, visibility, and impact. Elena is a true lighthouse.
The day I was recovering from a medical scare and trip to the ER, I opened the door and Hold Nothing was there. I hugged the package the timing was so sweet!
From the first day I started reading this book, it’s been like an oracle where I find the precise words I needed to read, always artfully articulated. I tried to only page flag the moments I really needed to, and there are many…
For the end of the year, I’m daring myself to take a proper break. I feel antsy writing that sentence, but it’s my intention. One of the ways that I’m going to chill the fuck out is to drop into a novel. Not just any novel, but a complicated, magical novel—100 Years of Solitude.
I’m also re-reading part of Why Art Cannot be Taught by James Elkins. This book first came into my hands when I was around 16. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it then and I’m still not sure, but maybe it’s because he describes the uneasy dynamics of arts education with directness and depth. This is one I’ve referenced throughout the years and I’m drawn to it again while conducting research interviews on creativity and arts education.
And just for fun, some 90s December issues from my extensive collection of Martha Stewart Living. The photography is next-level:
Alright, I’m going to get back to reading! I’m extremely excited about what’s to come with Gentle Musings and Regarding Dew in 2026… more on all of that soon.
With all the emotions and memories the holidays stir, let alone feelings about the end-of-year, I’m sending warmest wishes. Thank you for being here.
Maggy
💌 IN CASE YOU MISSED IT
One of the main things I do with private clients in creative coaching is look honestly at conditioned ideas of how creativity ‘should’ be: timing, pace, output, forms of expression, how it’s “supposed to” feel…all of it! The less tightly we hold ideas about how creative practices should be and look, the more space there is for your unique process in this season to unfold.