Tiny Revolutions №123: Proof of life
dispatches from the intersection of hormonal chaos, impermanence, and crows 🐦⬛
Hello! I’m Sara Campbell, a writer, lay Zen teacher, and guide who helps people navigate change, endings, and reinvention, among other things. I’ve been writing this newsletter for seven+ years but haven’t written since July, so if you’re wondering who I am, you are not alone. 😶🌫️
My sister told me recently that I think about death too much, and I’ve been brooding about it. First of all, it’s probably true. Second of all, what of it?? The way things seem to be going, I often wish more people would.
Maybe she’s right and I could stand to lighten up, but in my defense, the past couple of years have been marked by a shift for me, physically. A slow-going change that’s surprised me, and maybe even turned my life upside down — I’m still too close to it to tell. Yes, I am talking about The Change. And yes, I knew it was coming, but, like many other women I talk to, I truly had no idea what I was in for. It’s been eye opening, to say the least.
I’m not going to bore you with a treatise on the realities of perimenopause, (though I am tempted, I feel like someone opened a drain at the bottom of my life that has sucked out all the energy), I’m just saying I’ve kinda been going through it. Let’s be real, I’m always kinda going through it, that’s basically my whole brand (Tiny Revolutions!!), but between this physical metamorphosis and the metaphysical one happening via my commitment to Zen teaching, it’s no wonder I’ve been pondering the inexorable truth that one day we’ll all return to dust.
***
OK, thanks for allowing me to do a little throat clearing. Despite being stymied on the newsletter front, I’ve actually been writing and speaking quite a lot this year. Just last weekend I dressed up as Annie Hall and read some poetry and stories at our bi-monthly variety show at Angel City Zen Center, and had a blast doing it.
Here’s one of the pieces I read:
If you listen long enough to the crows, you can’t help but come away with the idea that it’s all just a game that goes on and on forever. Life occurring, obstacles arising, tricks and strategies and alliances to surmount them, a lot of impassioned caws and matter-of-fact clicking. Silence and pondering, maybe a shoulder to perch on or an ill-behaving human to target and brood over. Or not. Who am I to say I know a crow’s business?
What I can tell you is that sometime in the past week or so, a hawk has shown up on our block. Which is not surprising, being that the block is chock full of other critters, including skunk, squirrels, possums, coyotes, and this one black cat who wears gold Cuban links around her neck.
The hawk is different, a different kind of imperious than a crow. Its cries are piercing and from a great height. The better from which to see the prey, I suppose. I haven’t seen this new character yet, but I hear it, imagine it surveying the urban landscape so full of discarded whippet canisters and empty cans and bottles of Modelo. It’s a place of abundance, Echo Park. Many varieties of experience, including avian. You hear Canadian geese a lot, too. Bird giants all around us.
When I lived in Atlanta there was a big red tail living in the oak tree in my dad’s backyard, and there were also barred owls, a.k.a. hoot owls, which make a really crazy noise that sounds more like it comes from a land animal.
I used to listen for overlap. How do all these birds interact with each other? Are the owls and hawks in competition over the tastiest rodents? Or do they each have a lane they kind of stick to? Is there a hierarchy? Do the crows stay clear of their bird of prey brethren? Is their food easier to find and that’s why they’re more trickster-y, because they can be? These are questions I could probably find answers to, but it’s more fun to wonder. Why are some humans more trickster-y than others? Why are some all business, imperious and predatory, and others mostly in it for the LOLs?
Do hawks LOL? I read a memoir about a woman who worked with goshawks and I gotta say, there did not seem to be a lot of shenanigans going on in that world. Wilderness, yes. Violence, yes. But few giggles.
But again, what would I know about a hawk’s business? I am curious though, I can wonder. I also wonder about all the birds I am not noticing here at 2526 Kent St. The ones who also roost right outside our windows, but make less of an impression. Are their songs softer or am I just attuned to the most distinct and powerful kinds of animals? What is it about me that I’m only picking up on certain shiny bits?
As you might be able to tell, there’s been a lot of wondering going on around here this year. Not a ton of conclusions and God knows not much certainty, but lots of space for the imagination, and that’s helped keep me sane and moving forward.
Aside from that, I’ve been applying the same level of attention and questioning to my dharma talks, some of which have made the ACZC podcast. Here are some good ones:
(Note you can listen on any podcast platform, not just at the links above.)
These talks are all about looking closely at the conditions of our lives, using Zen teachings on impermanence and interdependence as reference points. You don’t have to be into Zen to get something out of them (or so I hear).
I also had a wonderful conversation with my dear friend Russell Smith, who writes an excellent newsletter called Solvitur Ambulando that you should read. This is a podcast, to be clear, but he shared some highlights in the text that you can click through and read if listening is not your style.
Have I mentioned that this has been one of the hardest AND best years I’ve had in recent memory? Change is intense and my schedule is demanding, but I do feel truly alive and very much like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. I don’t always enjoy it, but I don’t think that’s the point.
A lot of my time is spent around community building IRL these days, which feels amazing and very correct for the time. I love being back in LA and holding down the fort at the Zen Center, so if you’re in town, do swing through and meditate/meet some cool people who are trying to get right with themselves and the world.
I’m also helping out with the LA Eastside Breakfast Clubbing meetup, which is every other Thursday morning at LA Mill coffee shop in Silver Lake. Everyone is invited, no pitching allowed! (For real though, it’s a bunch of people in media/marketing/creative/adjacent industries who just…talk about whatever. A nice way to make connections in person.)
Excellent, you’re still here! I’m planning to share more pieces between now and the end of the year — essays, talks, invitations, maybe a few surprises.
How about you?
Thanks for reading, as ever.
😘
Sara
p.s. If this resonated, tap the heart or share it with someone who needs it.
Ciao! You may want to check this out: What’s It About: Obitchuary: The Big Hot Book of Death This is a hilarious tour through the weird, tender, and downright fascinating world of death. The authors treat obituaries like miniature thrillers and funeral history like a gossip column. It’s an interesting analysis on how we memorialize people (and pets), the evolution of mourning rituals, cemetery lore and odd death-adjacent jobs. (From a substack I follow)
Thinking about death a good amount is healthy. To quote No Country For Old Men, ya can’t stop what’s comin’. Thinking and talking about it maybe just maybe helps you prepare a little bit more for the inevitable than living in fear or obliviousness of it.