Dear August,

You've been quite the month.

I returned to San Francisco, and with that has come many ups and many downs over the past 31 days.

I have had the gift of reconnecting with cherished friends who live near and far. I’ve found daily joy in growing closer (both figuratively and literally) to the best guy I’ve ever met (no more long distance!). I’ve cherished spending quality in-person time with people that inspire me. I’ve soaked up the sun on cloudless days, and embraced the rolling fog with a cup of tea in hand.

I have faced evenings where I cannot fall asleep, and mornings where I cannot get up. I’ve felt disheartened time and time again in my job search. I’ve begun to doubt myself daily. I’ve sought out assurances from others to fill the gap of assurance in myself. I’ve clouded sound judgement with the deafening noise of self-criticism.

Today, I woke up with the ease of having nowhere to be. While some days this month have brought anxiety alongside a lack of routine, I am grateful that today I felt inclined to walk on my own around the city.

On my journey to Mission Dolores Park, I discovered a new coffee shop and ordered the best matcha latte I’ve had in awhile. I sat on a park bench overlooking an unobstructed view of downtown SF, sipped my new favorite drink, watched an outdoor yoga class, smelled the distinct whiff of marijuana smoke from a nearby enjoyer, and listened to the irregular footsteps of children running around the playground and free-roaming dogs barking.

Looking at this portrait of the city made me realize that I have painted such different versions of this place in my mind over the years.

I’ve painted San Francisco with admiration and adoration, a love stemming from opportunity, possibility, connection, independence, and excitement. I’ve painted San Francisco with heartbreak, a loss of hope and confidence that tomorrow can be better than today. I’ve painted San Francisco with fear, a lack of trust in myself and others. All of these renderings of San Francisco have integrated chaos and peace, a testament to life’s curveballs and clarities.

Last weekend, Joe and I were driving back to the city on the 280 at dusk. We witnessed the lifespan of a stunning sunset full of burnt oranges and dusty pinks. I told Joe that the clouds looked like brushstrokes sweeping the sky.

We then started talking about how we paint our lives. Sometimes, we will have a brushstroke of a single color that occupies a large space on our canvas, while another space features extreme detail with many shades.

Looking at my life’s painting right now, my eye tends to focus on the oranges and pinks of Australia, often longing for them. Yet, the new shades of oranges and pinks added to my canvas from this month and today are just as beautiful, albeit different. And while I do not know how detailed or colorful my depictions will be in the future, at least I have the intention to make them unique and creative. Maybe I will combine the colors of Australia with the colors of San Francisco to create a hue that is more vibrant, captivating, and inspiring than the dried paint of my past.

How can I paint each day with possibility, presence, and pleasure? How can I stop focusing too much on the bigger picture, yet not get caught up in the details? How can I learn to enjoy each pass of the brush, not judging if it looks different than what I intended? How can I prioritize the process rather than the final portrait?

I look forward to discovering what I will paint next.

With love,

Alyse

P.S. One of my favorite groups Laszewo released a new album called “In Color” this week. Seems quite fitting to mention in this particular blog post. :)