Time has moved quickly this year, and I often find myself out of breath trying to keep up. My new job has been intense, demanding in ways I didn’t quite anticipate. At home, conversations drift toward the heaviness of politics, worry, and overwhelm. I miss talks of radical dreaming and community-making. I’ve been nudging myself toward more nourishing spaces, and inviting others in, too. Small gatherings, quiet moments to reconnect, to remember.
About a decade ago, I was learning to scuba dive. After a beach dive, walking back to shore with one fin still on, a wave caught me off guard and knocked me into another diver. I tumbled underwater, unsure which way was up. I saw sand, bubbles, chaos. I curled into myself, found my regulator (for oxygen), and held still while the ocean spun around me. That pause helped me exit the ocean safely.
That’s how life feels right now: turbulent and disorienting. But I’m trying to remember how to make space for stillness. To hold it. To share it.
I think that’s what I’ve been attempting with Memoriver Radio—to create small, tender moments of pause and presence. The next one is happening this Saturday, July 12th, at Creature’s Plants & Coffee: more info. By the way, the coffee shop is so cute! It’s also a nursery with plenty of outdoor seating.
Truthfully though, I’m a bit worn down from work, summer busyness, and current events. Preparing everything for this pop-up takes a lot of effort as well, and I often find myself longing for ease and comfort… but still! I am devoted to this project. Memoriver was never meant to be about comfort. It’s an exercise of trust: in the unknown, in the process, in the people who show up. I never know how the day will unfold. To me, Memoriver is an intuitive practice.
This is also the first time I’ll be doing this without a guest co-host and it’s not part of a larger event like the other ones. It’s a soft invitation for you, friends, and strangers to stumble upon the table, sit with me, and share a piece of your life. I’ll ask questions, listen, and record fragments of your imagination, memory, and wonder. I’m also bringing my Playtron and plan to hook it up to plants so you can make music while touching the leaves (at least I hope so).
Then after Saturday, I have to pause the pop-up in August. I need time to rest, to listen back through the tapes I’ve collected, and to gently tend to the stories already gathered.
So, will you talk to me on Saturday?
Sincerely,
Stepfanie