The written loom

On simplicity as the most intelligent form of care

Dear you,

Not long ago, I opened P.O. Box 49 and found a letter inside, the kind written on plain paper, without any intention of impressing anyone.. It carried a small story. Someone described their nearly ninety-year-old Irish-Canadian grandmother standing over the stove, a tiny saucepan on the burner, one single yellow potato boiling in water..

“Are you hungry, Nana?” they asked.

And she replied, in the accent that never leaves you no matter how many countries you move through: “Sometimes I just need a boiled potato.”

It wasn’t profound in the way we are used to calling things profound.

It didn’t teach, nor motivate.. It didn’t even  try to become content. It was simply a sentence you could breathe inside.

And yet it stayed with me, not because of the potato, because of the permission.

I have learned differently.. I mean.. I have learned that I must want something bigger, more interesting, more ambitious.. If I choose something simple, it must mean I am settling.. If I pause, I must justify and explain it.. Turn it into something meaningful enough to deserve its existence..

And here comes a woman almost ninety years old saying: “Today i want a boiled potato”… and that’s it..

Not the food.. The clarity.

My grandmother did not have a potato. She had embroidery.

When my grandmother needed to return to herself, she did not look for something “better.” She picked up her embroidery.

No announcement… No self-care declaration… No explanation..

Just the hoop, the threads, the fabric.

She would bend over it quietly..

Back then, I thought she was simply stitching patterns, yet now I understand that she was stitching regulation..

She was placing her body into rhythm so anxiety would not swallow her..
She was placing her mind into repetition so fear would loosen its grip..
She was giving her soul something tangible so it would not drift away..

What emerged were masterpieces, not because others needed to admire them, but because they held time, patience, silence..

That was her boiled potato.

And what moves me most, is that she did not look like someone searching, but she looked like someone who knew..

We are not always seeking success. We are seeking regulation.

Let me say something simple and serious: We are not always lazy.. unmotivated.. inconsistent..

Sometimes we are simply… un-tuned.

Like an instrument left in the sun.

And when that happens, we make the same mistake: We try to fix it with strategy.

A better schedule.. More pressure.. More productivity.. More structure..

But the truth is physical.. We do not always need motivation.. We need nervous system reset..

Regulation means:

The tension softens, the breath returns, the body feels “I am here,” the mind stops running as if chased..

And this is where the boiled potato returns..

It is not a goal, or an achievement, but the smallest act that brings you back.. And that is not small.. it’s a skill..

The reason some people endure

The people who endure long seasons of responsibility, creation, caregiving, life, are not necessarily the strongest..

They are often the most practical, and they have one thing they do when everything rises..

Not to improve, but to prevent collapse.. They understand something quiet: Withdrawal is not abandonment, yet it is maintenance.. Like oil in a machine.. Without it, endurance turns into erosion..

And erosion shows later, when everything irritates you, when nothing brings joy, when you cannot focus, when tears sit close to the surface,
when you feel like you are no longer yourself.. In those moments, you do not need a new project.. you need your boiled potato..

“But I don’t have time.”

You might say that.. but a boiled potato does not require time.. it requires permission – permission to actually boil..

It is rarely the ten minutes we lack, it is the right to do something that produces nothing.. Keep it small and real..

That nanny did not say: “Sometimes I need to regulate my nervous system.”.. She said “potato”.

You might say:

Sometimes I need to sit in a chair with a book..
Sometimes I need to write two lines with a fountain pen..
Sometimes I need to water the garden without thinking..
Sometimes I need to pet my dogs and stay there..

And not explain it..

Your boiled potato is waiting

She had a potato.. My grandmother had embroidery.

And me? When I am honest, I have:

A book, a chair.. and silence.

And something inside me softens.

If you don’t yet know what yours is, do not rush.. instead, think of the smallest, shyest need you have..

Not what you will post..
Not what you will justify..
Not what will make you impressive..

The smallest act that returns you to yourself.

Do it today..

Not tomorrow..

Today..

Sometimes, you just need your boiled potato..

With warmth,
from P.O. Box 49