A Dirt Shaped Freckle

Hi earth angels!!!

We made it through another week! In a huge surprise & delight to myself, I’m back in a groove with sending out newsletters weekly. This is my first 6-week streak in a while - it feels so good to be back in a groove. Shoutout to my friend Olivia for reading drafts, giving me great feedback, and generally hyping me up.

Speaking of grooves and routine, I started listening to the Gucci Mane Guide to Greatness on Audible, per my mom & brother’s endorsement. It’s a quick listen, only about 3 hours, and it’s basically just Gucci Mane showering you with common sense and tough love. He’s all about discipline, being honest with yourself, and sticking to your goals. As someone who was doing REALLY WELL with a routine earlier this year then kinda fell off the bandwagon, I’m finding it to be a great fall listen.

The other big update over here is that thanks to my cousin / newly appointed Brightside Archivist Meaghan, my newsletter archive is FINALLY in one place and up to date. I can’t believe I’ve been at this for almost four years! Proud. Also, you can find a playlist with all my “on repeats” here.

ICYMI, last week I wrote a reflection about how I accidentally became attached to my Magic 8 Ball. This week I’m hitting you with a love letter to my favorite freckle, because, of course I am.

My wish is that this one helps you think of the thing that you love the most about you.

Keep it breezy,

Bogs

A DIRT SHAPED FRECKLE

About four inches below my right collarbone sits a dirt-shaped freckle. It’s darker than its symmetrical counterparts that are sprinkled across chest and shoulders - this particular freckle is ever so slightly misshapen. It looks like a byproduct of jumping in a big puddle after a rainstorm - a droplet that haphazardly, unexpectedly, and permanently landed on my chest.

I don’t know when my freckles started to bloom exactly, but ever since I can remember they’ve been a part of me, and I love them. When I was little, I’d play connect-the-dots on my legs and arms with a ballpoint pen, turning my body into a night sky full of constellations. Other times, I’d turn two particularly dark freckles on my left thigh into eyes, drawing a broad arc underneath them to make them smile out at the world. In middle school, as we learned about how to measure the population sizes of animals in nature, I wondered if I could replicate the quadrant method on my own body to get a count of my freckles once and for all. And then later in life, as my curiosity about our purpose on earth grew, I came to imagine all of my freckles as markers of the lives I’ve lived. The pale ones indicating lives that were cut short, the darker ones marking rich lifetimes full of mystery and adventure.

My freckles remain active all year long, but they’re especially vibrant in the summer - mirroring the way my own personality shines when the weather gets warm. I deeply identify as a Leo, and I think it’s a cute consistency that my body acknowledges my seasonal sense of aliveness with the deepening of the dark spots on my face and body, making my blue eyes pop after a long day at the beach. It’s like nature affirming my affinity for the sun. This past March, in a bout of particularly hard winter blues, I booked an impromptu trip to Miami - not to party, but to restock my freckle supply. Within two days I was blooming with little brown specks again, and it did wonders for my attitude.

If picking a favorite freckle seems self-indulgent, so be it. I’m rolling my eyes at myself, too. But of the hundreds, maybe even thousands of tiny dots that cover my body, it’s the dirt-shaped freckle in the middle of my chest that I’m endeared to the most. It’s funny how distinct it seems to me when I know it’d be lost to the naked eye in the sea of spots that surround it. It’s something only its possessor would truly know and appreciate, and I suppose maybe that makes it even more fun to adore. It’s like a secret between me and myself, an inside joke.

I love my dirt-shaped freckle for its cheeky abnormality. Centered above my heart chakra, it seems like a subliminal message to the world … signaling the way I embrace my life with all its perfect imperfection.

Through all the ups and downs and doubting myself and wishing I could change this, that, or the other thing about my body or life - my freckles have never been subject to self-criticism or ridicule. If anything, they remind me of the hilarious beauty that’s all around us if we’re willing to look. Some of it’s obvious, as visible as my freckles after a walk in the sun. And some of it, we need to look closer for. We might notice that some of it looks like dirt … but it’s up to us to create a story that turns dirt into something where flowers can grow.