Honoring the Perspectives of Our Head and Our Heart (Take 2!)
Explicitly hold space for both and you might find decision-making a little easier.
UPDATE: The train is a wonderful place to be, but sometimes the wifi gets messed up and therefore publishes the wrong version of your Substack. So I’m resending the correct version!
The last time I wrote to you from a train, I was contemplating whether my heart could break because of a geographical move.
I still wonder about the long-term effect of leaving NYC, even though somehow it’s been years now since I left full-time—and sometimes I think I am more hung up on the nostalgia itself than on the possibility that I left a piece of me behind in Manhattan.
I come to now you now from an adorable sleeper car en route to Boston from Rochester, where my family and I moved last summer (we moved to Rochester, not to this sleeper car—though I am low-key considering never leaving).
And even though I indeed packed my travel microphone (because you never know!), I plan on taking two entire days off while visiting my best friend Erica in Providence. On my travel days (today and Friday), I’ll be working from my makeshift office.
And, holy shit. Have you ever worked from a train’s sleeper car? There is nothing more glorious—and I mean nothing. When I wrote Fabulous Vegan, I took myself on a train trip from Chicago to my then-home in Los Angeles (yes, I’ve lived in many places … but I will reiterate that none have been a train … yet).
Amtrak is vegan-friendly (there’s a vegan enchilada on the menu today), and being on the train is one of the few times I feel genuinely relaxed—and, somehow, concurrently hyper-focused on writing or work. I tend to board the train a tired, at least somewhat angst-ridden person and—in this case, 10.5 hours later—depart with a renewed sense of calm. In no uncertain words, that is how powerful a train trip is for me.
Reflect, connect, create
This magical time (which feels timeless, really) to reflect, connect, and create presents a unique opportunity for me to think about my challenges from two different perspectives: that of my head and that of my heart.
Something about the slow, consistent rocking of my train car evokes that sense of clarity that I rarely can access in the relentless rigamarole of everyday life. And ever since my coach, the brilliant Kathleen Stetson, suggested I write two letters to myself—one from my head and the other from my heart—to possibly jostle myself out of my spiraling around a problem I’ve been having, I’ve been curious about what happens when I hone in on issues from these two different binaries.
I’m sure it’s not unusual for us to struggle with the dichotomy of head versus heart, but I’m wondering how much space we—well, I—leave to honor each of these unique perspectives. I would say they are each very valid indicators of how we might approach problem-solving, but sometimes they need to be parsed out a little.
Take my “tragic love story” (oh, I’m dramatic, alright!) regarding leaving NYC. Looking back, I realize that I wrote that entire piece from the POV of my heart, and I don’t mean to discount her (let’s just make my heart a she), but I don’t think I left enough space for my head (also a she). Had I done that, I might have toned down the drama factor a smidge and recognized all the many gifts I got from expanding my geographical circle enough to live in Northern, then Southern, California, then the Catskills, and finally a beautiful old house in Rochester, NY that we were able to make net zero. I mean, how lucky am I?!
Always too much
I think it is possible that I sometimes overdo the heart stuff, probably because I experienced certain parts of my childhood as lacking the resources to meet my emotional needs. Or, at least, they were met very inconsistently.
I think this is the case for many people of my generation whose parents were divorced (in my parents’ case, more than once). As a result, by the time I was an adult, I probably overcompensated by super-duper-extra accommodating my heart. Take that, everyone else! And there’s nothing wrong with that; it needed accommodating.
And so, people called me too much (I wrote a book about that, too). Or intense. Or extra. And I’m sure there’s at least a nugget of truth to all of this.
But I’m also very grounded, rational, and—thanks to the foundational teachings of Alanon—am getting better and better at letting shit go every day.
I just need to remember that, especially when I am spiraling around a problem and feeling unable to find clarity. Kathleen’s suggestion of writing a letter to myself from the perspective of my heart and another one from the perspective of my head was very helpful for me in stopping the cycle of indecision. It didn’t solve everything, but it allowed me the space to feel it out.
The happiest place on earth
As for my dear heart, she really needs that extra attention sometimes. She needs that validation and acknowledgment that she didn’t always receive. I can offer that to her now, hold close her perspective, and choose a way forward from there.
My precious brain has a lot to say, too, but is used to staying quiet sometimes (she’s a real bottom!). When they work together, though, I have the power to really honor my truth and my needs.
I recommend you try this, too (and thank you, Kathleen, for this super-cool exercise). Write two letters to yourself—one from your head and the other from your heart. How does this change things for you?
If I were to have a (human) child, these would be two important things I’d want to help teach them: how to self-soothe, and how to make decisions from a grounded, empowered place. I don’t think we can do that without understanding what our heart and our head feel.
As for mine, in time, I think they’ll work in tandem a bit more than they do now. But I’m grateful beyond words for the ability to pause and listen to what they both have to say.
But then again, maybe I sound so wise and chill right now because I’m coming to you today from the happiest place on earth. F*ck you, Disneyland; I’m talking about the train.
xo,
jazz
love it, love you, thank you for sharing friend!