McSweeney’s List (31 January 2024)
All gratitude practices require reframing. One involves changing “have to” to “get to”. For instance, you don't have to go to work, you get to. As someone who leaves home for my desk gig before the sun is up, this sentence sticks in my throat. I mean, I can get there. I'm grateful that I have a job, that I can walk without struggle to the metro, that there is a metro, all that jazz. But it's a steep climb to that level of gratitude, underslept and overly cold, trying not to fall on slippery sidewalks. (Side note, I've already fallen twice -- in one day, thank you very much. I'm still walking funny. Fuck Uggs, yay Blundstones.)
Earnest gratitude must start smaller. It's a muscle that needs building, not only over time, but every day, as well. I don't know about you, but I wake up each day in some roll of the dice way, a combination of what I dreamed about (whether I remember it or not), and a blank slate confusion. Wait, who am I? Do I have somewhere to be right now? What does my body feel and need? It's a fairly fresh (if disorienting) start. I do not open my eyes with a thanks but a wha--?. But when my mind finally shifts into gear, I do begin counting blessings. I don't sit with a Gratitude Journal™️, I just watch carefully. Remember when I did a quick body check a few lines ago? I am infinitely grateful when I tell you that statistically, the check goes quite well. Despite whatever dumb shit I've done to my temple the night before, and despite the erratic way I treat it, it remains standing strong. It's been called a brick shit house, and I'll take that with pride. Thank the Gods, thank nature, thank my strong, peasant roots. I get to move my body today.
When you’re sick, there's a moment of incredible gratitude, when your sniffles pass, that you can finally breathe. Inhale right now. Exhale. How much better is that than bubbling through boogers? Small steps. Precious small things.
Again, I don't know about you, but mornings (and nights…some afternoons…occasionally the spaces in between…) are particularly bad for my anxiety. Once I get a hold of the basics, I'm quickly slammed by panic, usually of a general variety. My mind starts reaching, and before I've had coffee, I'm thinking about money (never enough), bills (always too many), time (always juggling), and then the nature of time and existence, which is uh, crippling. So again, small steps. There's water coming out of my tap (and it's still filled with lead, but let's think about that another time). Whatever the uncertain future of the day, the week, the remainder of my beloved life, in this moment I am safe. And I relax. My mind lets go of the what-ifs, and the petty concerns, and I smile. In those moments, I am certain that the Universe created me so that I may flourish, and that I can rest my full weight in that face.
And then it's gone. All that concentration and effort, and it lasts a couple of glorious minutes tops. It's not like a switch, but rather a slow boil, my confidence slipping, my foundation crumbling, until I'm back to where I started. BUT LO, that's why gratitude is a practice, and not a perfection. Much like meditation, the moment you realize you've fallen out, you've already begun your return. In other words, as soon as you notice you're being whiny, ungrateful, and need a wah-mulance, and that you don't want to be, you're halfway home.
Even on the days when it’s a struggle to tear myself out of bed (most early mornings), and I can't quite muster the enthusiasm to smile about my plight (all work days), I'm glad to be forced out under the sky. The streets are quiet then, nearly empty, and those who are out are also quiet, locked in their own inner monologues. I'm happy to see the stars and moon doing their long winter curtain call, as if they stayed up to see me off. And I'm grateful to report that the sky is now lightening significantly earlier, adding joy and hope to my morning. This morning I smiled to myself, grateful for the sun’s long absence, if only so that I may celebrate its slow return. So while I might never manage to be truly excited for a shift in the Muggle World, I suppose I really am stoked that I got to go to work this morning.
ACTING UP
Professional actor and filmmaker Miranda Handford is offering acting classes for all levels of experience. Whether you're exploring a new passion or tuning up your skills, this is the spot for you. I asked Miranda to tell me more about her methods and the theory behind her teachings:
I don't follow a particular method, but draw from my training to tailor my approach to each student. I teach techniques drawn from the various Stanislavsky methods, Meisner, Chekhov, improvisation, Linklater voice work, as well as classical theatre. Actors need a safe place to practice; a safe place to fail.
WHAT: Acting Class with Miranda Handford
WHEN: Fridays, 6 PM - 8 PM, Starting February 2
DETAILS: Miranda Handford
OM
Need to unwind ASAP? Looking for a yoga class that costs less than groceries? By Donation Yoga is a pop-up bringing yoga to the people. This one will be Yin Yoga by candlelight. Yin is a practice focused on holding poses for an extended period, typically 3-5 minutes, allowing your muscles to relax and your connective tissues to stretch. This practice promotes flexibility, mobility, and deep relaxation. One of my favourite practices, Yin brings you back to yourself and your breath in a gentle way that's by no means easy. This is a practice of stillness and calm. Explore your inner world and walk out of class feeling relaxed and rejuvenated. Suitable for all levels. The cost is by donation basis - pay what you can - cash at the door or e-transfer is accepted.
WHAT: Candlelit Yin Yoga - By Donation
WHERE: Club Atwater, 3505 Atwater Ave., Montreal, H3H 1Y2
WHEN: Thursday, February 1, 5:15 PM
METRO: Atwater (Green)
DETAILS: Facebook
CELEBRATE
La Sala Rossa’s first event of the year celebrates Black History Month with the BHM Market and Open Mic.
The event is hosted but The MRKT, a multidisciplinary community arts collective built by and for Black, Indigenous and racialized artists. They are dedicated to carving out space for artists to showcase, sell, and share their work, while maintaining a commitment to anti-capitalistic alternatives. They create spaces and networks for skillsharing, art trades, in-kind donations, and redistribution.
Per their website:
Community and art cannot exist without each other - they provide a sweet symbiosis, a nurturance, and a deep understanding of what it means to be human.
Amen.
This weekend, get out to celebrate and support Black artists and Black businesses. There is so little joy to hold unto, so let's create it for ourselves.
I couldn't have said it better.
WHAT: Joy: Black History Month Market and Open Mic
WHERE: La Sala Rossa, 4848 St. Laurent Blvd., Montreal, H2T 1R5
WHEN: Friday, February 2, 6 PM - 11 PM
METRO: Laurier (Orange)
DETAILS: Facebook
LAUGHS TO GO
Morgan O’Shea is funny. Like, professionally. His personal stories make light of the dark bits and remind us that laughter is indeed the best way to a bright side. He's opened for Doug Stanhope, killed in rooms both here and T.O., and this week he's finally releasing his third comedy album, Daddy Issues. It will be available on all streaming services, so pop it on and listen chez you, chez someone else, or on the way to somewhere. There's a decent chance you’ll hear Andrew Jamieson and I laughing hysterically in the background.
McSweeney’s List drops every Wednesday with the best events, workshops, and more, each week in Montreal!
