Growing up, early Sunday mornings in my house smelled like coffee and the only soundtrack was the rustling of newspapers and the stirring of spoons. Before kids and fantasy football, I followed suit. Sundays were reserved for lazy lounging with a few online go-to sources bookmarked for later reading or a thick novel mounted on my chest like a comforting anvil. My wife and I could move about our apartment like a stop-motion montage, sipping, reading, sharing the best parts of the article or the most shocking plot twists in our books. Nostalgia means something different to every generation and every household. But for me, Mental Yoga Sunday is a throwback to those lazy mornings and afternoons where I found something warm to drink, something immersive and informative to read, and the ticking clock meant absolutely nothing. We're bringing lazy back. Here are our favorite five long form reads this week.
His Heart, Her Hands (The Oregonian)
A LIFELONG PIANIST STRUGGLED TO PLAY AS HIS MEMORY BEGAN TO FADE. A PROFESSIONAL MUSICIAN BROUGHT HIS SONGS TO LIFE AGAIN
"All his life, Steve Goodwin had been a private man. No matter the circumstances, he'd say he was doing just fine. But as he sat in his Wilsonville home that Monday morning, he wasn't fine.
Over the weekend, he'd argued with his youngest daughter, Melissa. The blowup ended when his daughter, her voice shaking and tears in her eyes, opened the front door to her home and told him to leave.
As is the case in all families, they'd had minor disagreements before. But Saturday's battle had been raw. Steve knew he needed to set things straight. It was time to reveal his secret.
With paper and pen, he retreated to a quiet place in his home. He struggled to find the right words, to explain why he'd been so different these past months. When finished, he told his wife, Joni, he was ready...[more]"
We Have Found The Cure! (Sort Of...) (Outside)
Spa treatments have gotten wild in recent years, especially in Southern California, where women pay big bucks for radical remedies like colonics, juice fasts, and a Gwyneth Paltrow fave—the life-changing V-steam. Taffy Brodesser-Akner dons a satin robe and asks: If this is the path to happiness, why am I so freaked out?
"One’s vagina should be steamed in the upright position. In a room that’s lined wall-to-wall with real, actual jade, a woman (OK, me) dressed in a satiny, royal purple sheath that attaches just under the armpits—like the world’s least flattering strapless gown—sits atop a throne. The throne is wood and looks like a toilet, with a deep, dark hole in the middle. The gown goes over the body and the throne, creating a little biodome. Once you’re seated, steam from a container of mugwort tea and herbs rises and slithers up to its target."
The Great Super Bowl Jersey Caper (Sports Illustrated)
Two months ago in Houston, Tom Brady’s jersey was stolen from the Patriots’ postgame locker room. The investigation spanned thousands of miles, involved two nations and unfolded against the backdrop of a tense geopolitical drama. And the culprit might never spend a night in jail
"Agents didn’t tear up the floorboards, toss cabinets or pull kitchen appliances from their wall connections. They didn’t even search the lower floor. They simply asked, Do you have anything else? He did."
For 30 days, Michael Graff kept an excel spreadsheet that cataloged how he spent each hour and with whom. At the end of the month, he calculated who was, quantitatively, most important to him. And when he found that the people he cared about most — his brother, his friends — didn’t crack the “top five,” he decided to embark on a radical project to cut out negative people from his life. The results were more surprising than you might imagine.
The Snarling Girl (Hazlitt)
NOTES ON - AND AGAINST - AMBITION.
"Here is what we know for sure: there is no end to want. Want is a vast universe within other vast universes. There is always more, and more again. There are prizes and grants and fellowships and lists and reviews and recognitions that elude us, mysterious invitations to take up residence at some castle in Italy. One can make a life out of focusing on what one does not have, but that’s no way to live. A seat at the table is plenty. (But is it a good seat? At which end of the table??? Alongside whom!?) A seat at the table means we are free to do our work, the end. Work! What a fantastic privilege.
Feeling like one does not have “enough” of anything (money, status, fame, recognition, shoes, name it): that’s where every kind of terrible shit starts. And the benchmarks of success constantly shift. Ambition is a fool’s game, its rewards fool’s gold. Who is happy, asks the Talmud? She who is happy with what she has."
MENTAL YOGA SUNDAY :: 5 FAVORITE LONG FORM READS THIS WEEK 4.16.17 ~ Fin