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"How can you protect your heart from this world?" I asked the plants on our sill by the sink. I never gave them names, just Basil, Spider, and UFO. Over the sound of a running faucet, our kitchen radio played NPR's top-of-the-hour report on which villain claimed which victory today. I usually know better than to subject myself to this, to the news or the unsettling questions.

But I needed a distraction while I washed dishes, something to pull my mind away from a day that did me no favors. Instead the general stresses of the world needled me — why are we stuck in these forever wars, how is everything so expensive, when will it be safe to eat raspberries again, etc. They got to me in a way that minor annoyances (this afternoon it was the impossibility of getting my doctor's prescription faxed to another medical office) swelled into the kind of anguish that's embarrassing to have in a still kitchen. Like, there's no way I'm this upset while handling this yellow sponge and my favorite coffee mug.

After the dishes, I poured milk, sugar, 14 ice cubes, and leftover coffee from this morning's carafe into a big cup. I read that the secret to a light heart and bright eyes, to escape the despair symptomatic to those suffering our current era, is to plan little things to look forward to, small joys parceled out. Set appointments to meet a friend, to go on a walk, to find comfort somewhere, somehow. The iced coffee calmed me.

I later searched a phrase to find ideas for protecting one's heart, since the plants kept their thoughts to themselves, having no mouths or newsletters. A single result populated, from a subreddit dedicated to INFPs, people with Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling, and Prospecting traits, maybe attributes you recognize in yourself. The post title declared:

I cannot respect the spelling of y'all with the apostrophe after the A.

When I ask how to protect your heart, I don't mean to guard it from just everyday cruelties. I worry more about the internal games our troubles provoke us into playing, where we envision what justice looks like here, what punishments would suffice, what retribution would deter anyone from hurting us again. It takes a toll on our hearts to fantasize about a balance that won't come or about control we don't have. But how do we interrupt that habit? I haven't figured out yet how to persuade a pattern-seeking brain away from contriving a fair world where there is none.

Depending on my view of the day, I vacillate between Prodigy's warning "There's a war goin' on outside no man is safe from" and Voltaire's guidance that "one must cultivate one's own garden" (Basil would agree amidst the shed leaves littered at its feet.). The former glamorizes the thousand-mile stare to catch danger on the horizon, while the latter is a reminder to tend to the people and matters close to you.

It's frustrating that Voltaire's direction makes so much more sense yet is the tougher path to follow. His way requires an enormous amount of discipline to dismiss this impulse to imagine the worst from and on our enemies and aggravations, to damage our own hearts. It's also hard to ignore that Voltaire retained two master gardeners, twelve servants, and 20 workmen to cultivate his estate — you can sympathize with the folks who had him "thrown into the Bastille twice for being generally annoying," as the New Yorker put it.

That doesn't negate the idea that there are people and matters close to us that would thrive from our attention. Or that these relationships wilt when we ignore them to ruminate on how things should be. On our window sill, the UFO plant will continue to grow lopsided if I don't rotate its home from time to time, and it could do with a repotting, too. Same for the propagated Spider plant in its yogurt glass container. This could be one of those small joys to set appointments for, caring for them.

A few dope things that have been on my mind:

1. "Artists in Moominvalley" - We watch Moomin (1990) with our weekend breakfasts, a cartoons-and-cereal tradition started in pandemic times to separate those untroubled mornings from our work days. While each episode of the Finnish/Japanese show is a delight, offering the kind of memorable adventures and strange characters I miss from these old programs, "Artists in Moominvalley" is a favorite. It's a light-hearted story about unintentional art, and about appreciating where your own vision and limitations can take you.

2. Yee Mama's Honey Citron Refresher - I sipped this cold bottle on a picnic escape under a gentle sun, and I tasted its citrus as we sat on checkered blankets and wrote haikus after a butterfly show. Consider my enjoyment of this bougie lemonade somewhat amplified, like any memory from a dreamy day.

I am quick to hit the lab when I come by treats of a certain quality, and I put this summertime beverage under immediate scientific scrutiny — meaning I checked Yee Mama's Instagram account for recipe hints. My research revealed an extra ingredient absent from its descriptive name: yuzu. I've blocked off August to collect the required citrus extracts and to reproduce the appropriate ratios for this drink.

This is a repeat of last year's dive into Lemaire's SS26 Tomato Water, or my annual attempts to re-create the luxurious Tahô breakfasts remembered from a childhood in the Philippines. Luxurious in its silken texture and amber syrup reminiscent of crème brûlée or other decadent flans, not in its price. I can still feel the decagon shape of two-peso coins pressed into the flesh of my palm as I ran to catch the seller.

The Tahô vendor who walked our neighborhood's unpaved roads each morning transported the warm, soft tofu and sago pearls in aluminum buckets balanced across his shoulder on a carrying pole. There is a weight and effort to these prized treats.

3. The Fixx Studio - Alexis launched a YouTube channel with her best friend Geri to share their thrifting road trips and upcycle ideas! If you need inspiration to try your own DIY projects, or if you want to simulate that experience of hitting charity shops with good friends, hit subscribe on The Fixx Studio.

Both of them will have booths at the Cincinnati Punk Rock Flea Market on August 8, where you can see and purchase their work (original art and prints from Geri, hand-bound journals/sketchbooks and curated vintage clothes from Alexis).

♫ It's almost the end of the show ♫

Despite my conflicted introspections, know that I am in my championship era. I watched my team hoist the Larry O'Brien trophy over their heads at the end of the NBA Finals in June. Then I traveled to New York to celebrate with good friends as the Knicks paraded through the Canyon of Heroes under a rain of confetti and adulation.

Interviewed after a historic, unforgettable comeback in Game 4, Knicks captain Jalen Brunson was asked if he doubted the team could win when they trailed by 29 points. He dropped an all-timer with his reply: "You're allowed to think about the worst possible scenario. But you gotta go out there and do something about it."

What a quote! It's useful for the type of folks who often believe "All I gotta do right now is lock in," as evidenced by the glut of videos above inspired by his response.

No, you can't just lock in your way through every difficulty, but there are struggles this mantra can carry you through, in a footprints-in-the-sand way (Brunson, to us Knicks fans, is our savior after all). You can draw strength from those words to send an unpleasant email. You can make a phone call to follow-up on why your prescription hasn't been faxed yet. You can fold that hamper of clean laundry. Or in this case, you can finally produce a newsletter you've intended to write for two months now.

9 / Keep Your Heart

Credits: André 3000 rapped "keep your heart, Three Stacks, keep your heart" in UGK and Outkast's "Int’l Players Anthem (I Choose You)". Prodigy's lyric comes from Mobb Deep's "Survival of the Fittest", though the song repeats a common misinterpretation of Darwin's theory that "only the strong survive," when natural selection instead favors those "better adapted for the immediate, local environment." And Voltaire's words close out Candide. We only quoting classics 'round here.