vitality that's within reach
006 | Hue's Cues: Your weekly dose of inspiration and insights for your brain, mind, body, and soul.
Vitality.
I imagine it as a living current—an undeniable spark, a life force coursing through our veins. That subtle yet electric thrill of being alive, pulsating. A positive presence, radiating from within, equal parts hope, strength, and an unmistakable vibrance.
It’s the feeling I strive toward each day. I’m not delusional, I know it won’t be every day. Even a few days a week is a spectacular expectation. But I reach high so that when I inevitably fall short, which I will some days, the distance between where I am and the possibility I’m reaching for feels close.
When I reflect on how I want to feel in myself, vitality is what I want flowing through my veins. As always, it’s easier said than done. To truly nurture ourselves into such a state, as consistently as reality allows for—in such a world, that is often against our nature—requires effort, attention, and intension.
But wouldn’t it be worse not to try at all?
Sleep is the most obvious and essential rest and recover for our entire self, but it’s the hour before we try to fall into slumber that matters just as much. A habit I’ve picked up lately is reading an old-school paperback before bed. It forces me to disengage from my very addictive iPhone screen and re-engage with something slower, more intentional. But, here’s the truth: the material matters too. Did you know that sleeping after learning can dramatically improve memory retention? A study of teenage girls showed that sleeping after learning boosted memory consolidation and skill retention. So I’ve learned to curate what I read, especially those precious moments before I enter my dreamscapes. What’s your nightly ritual?
Lately, four books have been on rotation before bed. It’s simply the thing that’s soothing me. I spend a some minutes with each or until a natural break in the book, and while it’s tempting to blame social media for the shortening of our attention spans (a fact we’ve been relentlessly warned about), I’ve found unexpected pleasure in training my mind to notice the shifts in voice, rhythm, and style from one writer to the next. I find it fascinating, how dramatically different the same language can feel. I can’t cite a scientific study to tell you whether this habit is beneficial or detrimental to knowledge retention, but honestly, it brings me delight—and that’s enough of a reason for me!
Whenever I am around a dog, I am reminded of my deprivation. There’s something about cuddles in general, but cradling an adorable fur ball— oozing softness and cuteness, comfortably wrapped around my arms—feels like one of the most nourishing activities for the body. One study found that interactions between dog and human “induced oxytocin release in the owners who displayed behaviors that are associated with anti-stress effects. The dogs seemed to sense this and responded in a similar way.” And though my role remains only that of a peripheral relative to my sister’s hyperactive, always needy cockapoo, Chard, I can confirm the benefits extend beyond official ownership too. (Side note: I did not name the dog.)
Lately, my soul has been stimulated and gravitating towards poetry. I’ve caught myself, a few times—lingering in the stillness of the morning, to my thoughts beginning to move in lyrical and unstoppable cycles of floating words, gentle rhymes, and sequential expressions. Does this happen to you too? I often wonder if this is what happens in other minds too. As lately, my inner world has been intermittently bubbling with melodic streams of harmonic reflections.
Three song’s I’ve liked—on my Spotify.
The New Yorker at 100. It’s no secret that America remains the leaders in media. These titans of industry are still the ones much of the world watches, mimics, and quietly aspires to—myself included. This Netflix documentary was a revelation. A benchmark, truly. To witness the level of rigor and attention to detail upheld by the people behind one of the greatest publications of our time is both deeply admirable and completely astonishing. If you’re ever curious about what it actually takes to be the best of the best—to build a magazine that has not only survived but stayed relevant and shaped culture for a century—this film offers a rare behind the scenes into the workings of The New Yorker. I’ll admit, I’ve never been a regular reader. My familiarity with it came largely through the American zeitgeist—passing references in films, television, and conversations. Yet this documentary has made me seriously question its absence in my life. In my defense, I’ve spent most of my life in Asia, but seeing what I’ve seen now, it’s no wonder New York City and The New Yorker still commands authority over writing and publishing, as a global cultural powerhouse, that’s managed to stay relevant in even in the digital age.
