On Energy-Led Days ☀️👒
The unfamiliar gift of pacing myself and moving slowly
Long-time no write! It’s Emerline, back from the vortex. This newsletter is now Turntable Memos — a slow-brewed journal exploring how spaces and sounds shape the stories we tell about ourselves. Learn more.
✦ atmosphere (n.) — my inner weather; today’s emotional forecast.
Slow blooming under clear skies
Hey friends, it’s been a long minute.
The last time many of you heard from me, this newsletter didn’t really have an identity (ha), and I was bouncing between Dallas and California, preparing to move to Washington, D.C. That was about a year and a half ago!
Since then, life’s been full. I hit the ground running adjusting to a new city while juggling a fast-paced job. It was really go-go-go from the start in 2023, and I didn’t get much of a breather until earlier this year. I’ve gotten more grounded here and for the first time since the move, I’ve been able to truly slow down.
As of this month, I’m not tethered to a 9–5 for the time being and instead of jumping into the next big thing, I’m doing something I’ve quietly dreamed about for a long time: taking a self-declared micro sabbatical (I’ll share more on this in the next memo). Now, without the weight of commutes and constant deadlines, I can feel something reopening.
With all this extra breathing room, I’ve started to pay closer attention to how I spend my time and what actually supports me. I’ve been getting creative with how I engage with tech. One example of a small but surprisingly satisfying shift: organizing my Photos app into smart folders, each one automatically sorted by season. It’s helped me visualize my recent months at a glance and not just where I’ve been, but how it felt, and what I cared enough about in the moment to capture without too much manual effort.
Turns out, we’re already two-thirds through spring. The color palette thus far is unmistakable: sky blue, vibrant green, flowers in bloom, long walks, bright mornings. D.C. is beautiful this time of year.
As the days get warmer, I’ve been returning to taking care of my body. Not out of pressure, but with curiosity and care. After years of unpredictable rhythms, I was feeling burnout creeping in again. But this time, I’m so glad I didn’t override it. I slowed down. I listened. I rested.
The forecast? Clear skies to getting back to myself and feeling more alive (despite well… everything).
✦ memo (n.) — something worth sharing
On pace as a tool
Without external deadlines or constant urgency, I’ve started to notice and viscerally feel out the natural rhythm of my days. The way I ease into work, the warm-up rituals, and the wind-down after a task. It’s unfamiliar at first, then quickly feels extremely natural. It’s funny watching time stretch like this.
I’ve been without a 9–5 before, but the first time around I was clumsy with it. Totally unsure how to spend my time authentically. It took months before I figured out what I actually wanted from my days. I remember the first time I went to the beach at 3 p.m. on a Wednesday and thought, “Oh, this is what a day designed around my energy can feel like.”
I’m using this micro sabbatical to experiment with pace. Not just as a lifestyle shift, but as a spiritual and creative practice. What if how I move through the day is the work? What if the tempo I choose is part of what I make?
Spiritually, it’s meant learning how to listen again. To notice what my body needs, what my energy is drawn to, when something wants to begin or end. Creatively, it’s been about letting go of urgency as a metric and about trusting slower timelines. Giving ideas more time to breathe and letting the process feel more like a conversation with myself than output for output sake.
Of course, I still get distracted, get impatient, and wander down rabbit holes. But even that teaches me something. Pace, I’m learning, is actually the texture of my attention and isn’t the opposite of ambition. It’s what’s keeping me present.
✦ field notes (n.) — current experiment
A gift I’m taking from the past year and a half: I feel much more trained. The work and speed was intense at times, but it sharpened me. I’ve learned how to move through complexity, clarify direction, and lead things from idea to execution. That kind of creative process training repeated and lived sticks with you. So when it comes to my own creative projects, they don’t feel so intimidating anymore. Maybe it’s a little nerdy, but I’ve been having fun creating some guardrails for Turntable Memos (a bit of creative codes I can actually follow).
✦ spaces (n.) — places visited and liked
Marked for Return
I need to plan a trip to the Glenstone Museum in Maryland again soon before the summer heat is here. The art doesn’t shift much, but the landscape does: greens deepen, skies shift, wildflowers come and go. Visiting in different seasons gives you a whole new reading of the same place. I think that’s part of what I love about it. It makes me realize how I give a museum more grace to evolve slowly than I sometimes give myself, haha.
✦ sounds (n.) — what i’m listening to
On Repeat, Recently
Yukimi’s album For You has been on repeat. I admit I didn’t know Yukimi was Little Dragon until I watched the below clip from WaxPoetics’s feature. While I’ve definitely been playing summer fun tracks (Amine, Kaytranada type sh*t, and the usual bounce-around sounds), For You has been my go-to for the quieter hours. The whole album is contemplative, soft, and expansive.
✦ reflection (n.) — a question for your week
What tempo feels most true to you right now, and what might it unlock for you if you found a way to honor it?
Here’s to pacing ourselves with care. See you in the next memo.