There's magic outside when we leave our phones behind.
three vignettes from life
Welcome to Every Tiny Thought!
I write about the quiet, complicated, and often contradictory parts of life, especially identity, home, and this new chapter of becoming a parent. This space is where I share honest storytelling, personal reflections, and moments that don’t always make it into casual conversations. If that sounds like your kind of thing, I’m so glad you’re here.
Reading time outside.
We left our phones at home, packed two camp chairs, a picnic blanket, and water bottles, then headed outside to the grassy area just beyond our apartment that I’d only recently noticed, quietly tucked away from the main road. We picked a spot in the shade beneath three towering trees and set up our reading spot for the next two hours. The Northern California sky stretched above us in its usual deep, cloudless blue. Birds chirped, squirrels rustled in the background, and a small branch above swayed gently in the breeze. I hoped it wouldn’t fall while we sat beneath it. There were no app notifications to disturb us and no emails to check. My mind was quiet. Nature had my full attention.
We read for hours, occasionally distracted by neighbors passing by with their babies and dogs. From a nearby apartment, I heard adults and children talking and laughing. It sounded like a very cheerful Saturday morning gathering. I wondered what they were celebrating. My mind drifted as I read, but unlike the pull of a phone notification, it gently returned to the page without much effort.
It turned out that my body craved the sun, my mind needed the stillness, and my lungs longed for fresh air. Reading outside just hits differently.
After getting back to our apartment, I immediately blocked off two hours on my calendar for the same time next weekend: reading time outside. I was already looking forward to it.
In the woods.
The long car ride to the Sierra Nevada foothills was becoming uncomfortable for me. I knew this would likely be my last overnight trip before the baby arrives. I stayed offline and away from my phone, soaking in as much time as possible with friends and enjoying nature’s quiet.
Calaveras Big Trees State Park surprised all of us with some of the biggest giant sequoias in the world towering above. I had to tilt my head back to catch a glimpse of the treetops. Walking beneath them, I felt safe, sheltered by their magic, ancient presence.
I had only left the city the day before, yet already I had forgotten what life felt like without these trees, without the streams and the lakes, without the satisfying soft crunch of walking on the forest floor. I wondered when I might return to a place like this again. Soon, I’d be back in the city, back to the rhythm of daily life. And life would soon change forever.
So I lingered a little longer.
By the coast.
I didn’t have to go, yet I did. And I was so glad I did. Sea foraging during low tide with friends is what we do. This time, I was pregnant to do much, and the departure time was 5:00 am. I debated for a week whether to join and finally decided that being outside would do me good.
By the time we reached the beach up north, it was already 7:30 am. The others changed into their waders, grabbed buckets and shovels, and headed down to the beach. It’s nearly July, but the coastal California morning still gave me chills. I went back inside the car, pulled a thick blanket over me, and opened my book.
After about twenty minutes, I looked out the car window. Early morning fog still lingered above the sea, blending with the gray, heavy clouds. I could not tell fog from cloud. The day was just waking up. I was just waking up.
The next time that I looked up, the sky had cleared and the sun was out. The vegetation near the water’s edge turned bright green. Everything now looked full of life. I didn’t participate in the clamming, but I participated in being fully present and watching the sky come alive that day.
💌 If this resonated with you…
I write about the quiet, complicated, and often contradictory parts of life, especially identity, home, and this new chapter of becoming a parent. You can find more of my writing on similar topics here. If you’d like to support this kind of honest storytelling and receive more personal reflections like this, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Your support helps keep this space going and means so much to me.
Tiny Thoughts
Etgar Keret’s new short story collection, Autocorrect (2025), just came out. Again, it took me to the most unexpected places that are fantastical and out of this world.
Winter in Sokcho (2016) by Elisa Shua Dusapin. A French Korean woman working at a hostel in Sokcho, a border town between North and South Korea, meets a French writer spending his winter searching for inspiration. The story is short and composed, yet packed with undercurrents as deep as the winter snow.
Celine Song’s new film, Materialists, although very pleasant to watch with three very beautiful people, didn’t quite hit the mark for me. I had high hopes after her debut film, Past Lives, broke me into pieces. I talked about Past Lives here.
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Thank you for being here,
Until next time!
Ah, the magic of outside. It's one way to conscious living, to being in the present. Thanks for reminding me that it's not too difficult to just go outside, and I do have nature close by. I am in awe of the ancient trees.
you remind me how much we have missed. we are 5-min walk around from the waterfront and yet I have never thought of bringing a book and go read there. joy in life is everywhere to be found and we just need to think a bit differently to find the spark!