As much as ninety percent!? | an interview with Merlin Sheldrake
I’m going to break my usual newsletter format here, and start with our poem. It’s called VI. Wisdom: The Voice of God, by Mary Karr, and I believe it to be completely perfect.
Ninety percent of what’s wrong with you
could be cured with a hot bath,
says God through the manhole covers,
but you want magic, to win
the lottery you never bought a ticket for.
(Tenderly, the monks chant,
embrace the suffering.) The voice never
panders, offers no five-year plan,
no long-term solution, no edicts from a cloudy
white beard hooked over ears.
It is small and fond and local. Don’t look for
your initials in the geese honking
overhead or to see through the glass even
darkly. It says the most obvious shit,
i.e. Put down that gun, you need a sandwich.
From Tropic of Squalor (New York: HarperCollins, 2018)
I am completely hooked on this poem. The page has been dog-eared, and I’ve copied the words into a note on my phone, for more immediate access. I mutter fragments to myself whilst folding laundry, or waiting for the kettle to boil.
Ninety percent of what’s wrong with you / could be cured with a hot bath.
Almost exactly this time last year, Ben and I were moving house, and the bathroom was entirely re-done for the sole purpose of putting in a bathtub. I knew then as clearly as I know now that Mary Karr was right, and I was desperate to transition from a bath-less state, to an extremely bath-ful one.
I think my emotional state around that time can be neatly illustrated by one photo, taken by Ben’s dad, on our trip to pick out a bathtub:
Don’t mind me! Just quietly dissociating in an empty bathtub, in a builders warehouse in Watford!
Two days after we moved house, Ben had to go away - he was performing his two-man show in the West End, and because of Covid, and no understudies, and me working in a hospital, we had to isolate from each other for the duration of the run. It was an gloomy, icy December, and the new house had no heating, no hot water, no functional kitchen. My friend Kate sent us an extremely luxurious two-person-sized cheese selection as a house-warming gift, and every night I would trudge home from work, sit on our bed that was in the middle of the living room - the only available surface - and forlornly work my way through an enormous plate of artisanal cheese. Truly a bizarre merging of decadence and fetid self-pity.
The lack of heating and a working kitchen wasn’t a huge issue for me - nothing that couldn’t be solved with a plate of cheese and a big woolly hat. No, the main problem was the lack of bathroom - an entirely self-inflicted problem brought about by my febrile desire for a bathtub.
How are you managing without a bathroom?? My friends would ask, nervously.
And they were right to be afraid, because they certainly weren’t emotionally prepared for the grimly stated, single-word answer: ‘Tupperware.’
I should add, at this beautiful moment in the tale, that it was Ben’s dad who was doing all of our building work. He is a wonderful man, an absurdly skilled carpenter and builder, and a truly exceptional father-in-law. Despite living more than an hour away, he arrived at 6.45 on the dot, every morning for six weeks.
Now, you may be wondering: did we manage to get through this period without him walking in while I was weeing into a Tupperware container?
Needless to say, we did not.
But what does Katya peeing in a plastic box in front of her father-in-law have to do with the perfection of Mary Karr? You wouldn’t be the first to ask this; nor will you be the last.
The answer is:
Ninety percent of what’s wrong with you / could be cured with a hot bath.
My god was she absolutely right.
Was it worth it? The answer - perhaps surprisingly - is yes! Without a shadow of a doubt. Not only because I like to think the bond between me and my father-in-law was, at this moment, forever strengthened. But also because going from not having a bathtub to having one may be the single greatest improvement in my life that I can remember.
In these glum, confusing times we’re living through - all round-shouldered disappointment, and sharp, jangly panic - the bath is my best source of respite. As we wade through treacly uncertainty on a daily basis, the moment my body becomes weightless in the water is an almost transcendent pleasure.
In my shell-pink bathroom, I like to imagine myself quite elegant, like Jayne Mansfield in her heart-shaped tub.
Of course I know the reality is much more akin to this wet but undeniably relaxed dog:
Setting my dashed hopes of soapy glamour aside, a bath never fails to soothe my aching joints and addled mind. Add a book (ideally with an extraordinarily low-stakes plot), my phone placed beyond the reach of my prune-fingered grasp, a cold drink and a bathroom full of fragrant steam, and it’s a curative reset.
We’re pummelled so often with talk about self-care that the term has become near-devoid of meaning, and I often find myself getting cross with how patronisingly banal and obvious it all is. Then I realise I’m hunched grumpily over a laptop like a gargoyle eating a bowl of Twiglets.
And I remember Mary Karr. The obvious shit is still very much needed.
This has been a long, wearisome year for almost everyone I know. Everything has changed; nothing has changed. It’s a weird, hard time, and any big fixes are both elusive and unlikely to help. The solutions are small and fond and local.
A hot bath and a sandwich? This is the real stuff of miracles.
About 18 months ago I went for a walk with my friend Merlin. He was in the last stages of writing a book, and I asked if he’d like to do the interview for my newsletter. ‘It might help with sales!’ I said, mostly jokingly. He answered my questions, speedily and beautifully, back in September 2020. Over a year later, I’m finally sending out another newsletter, and his book has become a multi-award winning, international bestseller. Let’s hope this really picks things up for him.
The Cameo
My guest this week is Merlin Sheldrake.
What’s your job title/profession?
Biologist and author.
What made you/helped you to choose what you do?
I've tried to let my curiosity lead me.
What’s your perfect breakfast for a workday?
Recently I've been eating a little bit of muesli with lots of fruit, but I usually have a smoothie with whatever fruit and veg is fresh.
What’s your alarm sound?
A song that my brother Cosmo made me as an alarm – a wake up call – entirely created from the sounds of birdsong. It's trained me. Now I've become so accustomed to waking up when I hear birds singing that I can't sleep past 5am in the spring.
Do you have a set morning routine?
When I'm working, yes. I get up and have to move for an hour or so - running, swimming, skipping - depending on where I am and what time of year it is. I then have a cold bath or shower before breakfast.
Do you have a dedicated/preferred space for writing? If so, what does it look like?
I'm quite a nomadic writer and work in libraries a lot. I think the most important thing for me is a steady soundscape. In Montreal I tried a co-working space for a time but it was a challenge. People at neighbouring desks had loud phone calls ("hellLOoo... yes... yes... no... yes... pLeaze... "). I started wearing heavy duty ear defenders from a machine shop to block out the noise before realising that I would be better off elsewhere. I've since found that noise cancelling headphones work wonders.
Preferred stationary/tools of the trade? Essential work items?
A stand to raise a laptop to a sensible height, an insulated tea mug that doubles as an ice jar in the summer, and stainless steel lunch bowls with a rubber seal.
What are your work hours like? Do you try to create a routine for yourself or is that impossible given the nature of your work?
I find routine very important. If I was walking and every one of my paces was longer or shorter than the others I would tire quickly and end up thinking about my feet all the time. It feels similar with a work routine: the more familiar the rhythm, the freer I am to become absorbed. Of course, if I'm working in a lab or in the field then my routine is conditioned by practical issues: weather, machines breaking down, day length, creatures, etc.
Do you work with fixed goals in mind or take it day by day depending on what comes up?
I usually start with goals but am happy to let them go and change direction if needs be.
What inspires you?
Cold water, playing the piano, trouseling around in a kitchen making fermented hot sauce.
What’s your favourite thing about your job?
Not having a boss.
Least favourite?
Lots of time at a computer.
Do you have a go-to treat to get you out of a slump?
A cold grapefruit usually does the trick, or a cup of matcha.
Go-to work sustenance, meal, drink or snack-wise?
Pu-er tea and an apple is a snack I enjoy, but there are many others.
What’s your favourite part of the day?
Early through mid morning, or supper through late night.
Any hot tips for the old work-life-balance conundrum?
I tend to work hard when I work and play hard when I play. This way the work naturally gives rise to an urge to play, and the play gives rise to an urge to work. It's a cycle that suits me, but I know it doesn't suit everyone.
Do you have any hobbies/passions outside of your work?
My work feels quite like a hobby/passion, but besides that there's music, fermenting foods and drinks, reading, walking...
What’s one piece of advice you would give to someone who wants to do what you do?
Once at a wedding someone I hadn't seen for a while asked me what I was up to. I said I didn't know and they moved to console me, as if this was a problem. I assured them that I was quite happy not knowing exactly, and explained that it felt something like sailing. They didn't need to console me: my boat was in good shape, the rudder worked, I had spare sails, a map, and a compass. But what exactly I was doing depended on where the wind was blowing and what kind of wind it was. This meant that my answer depended on the weather. Their approach struck me as more like that of a motor boat, which had the advantage of moving directly and rapidly, but which would not be able to catch an unexpected wind that might blow them in a potentially interesting direction. This sailing metaphor has helped me hold space for the unknowable, which I feel keeps me healthy.
What are you evangelical about recommending to people?
Something I'm evangelical about recommending to myself is fasting. I used to fast for two days a month, now I do so for one day a week. I find it to be an astonishingly life-giving practice. Besides the many health benefits, I experience an unusual stillness and calm: I need less sleep, dream more vividly, can sit still for longer, can think more clearly and think longer thoughts.
What’s your top tip for getting shit done?
Find out what motivates you and ride it; find out what gives rise to your distraction and attend to it.
Which three songs should I listen to this week?
2. Miserere Nostri, Thomas Tallis (I've been enjoying the Rodolfus Choir's rendition)
3. The Mood That I'm In, Billie Holiday
Follow Merlin on Twitter: @MerlinSheldrake
Peruse his website: www.merlinsheldrake.com
It’s a great cover, sure, but do we think it’s a bit of a shame he didn’t take my advice here?
Okay, maybe not.
Let the records show that Merlin’s book is a sensation, and that my grandma was a sage and a prophet.
You can buy a copy of Entangled Life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds and Shape Our Futures here.
Some Music
If you want to take Mary Karr’s advice, and sink into a hot bath as soon as humanly possible, this playlist is for you.
You can listen to it on Spotify here.
Links!
Chapsticks on my Person, Ranked - from Daniel Lavery’s ever-brilliant newsletter The Chatner.
I’m not proud for loving this video, but love it I do, so who am I to deny you?
I Rewatched Love Actually and Am Here to Ruin It for All of You: Lindy West’s righteous fury is a faithful friend, year in, year out.
John Prine: The Difficulty Of Forgiveness - I really enjoyed this piece about the late, great John Prine.
Prine’s songs include so much permission to forgive ourselves for being imperfect, for acknowledging that we can love our weaknesses as much as our strengths, and for being content with our priorities, however skewed they may be. Some of Prine’s personal priorities are songs, a good meatloaf, and friends and family.
What’s the opposite of dispiriting? Well, whatever it is, this video for Nocturne Child by Daniel Romano's Outfit is… that:
The Pluralism Project is a project from Harvard University that has been studying the changing religious landscape of the United States for more than 15 years. They define pluralism as ‘not just tolerance, but the active seeking of understanding across lines of difference.’ Even just reading their gently illuminating posts on social media (Instagram & Twitter) makes me feel fractionally less like an oblivious gnome.
This piano lesson with Oscar Peterson brought me 7 minutes of saucer-eyed delight. The bit where he describes improvising in octaves as ‘a little difficult to do if you haven’t been doing it’ is also a masterclass in generosity.
One last thing!
I didn’t manage to do much newsletter writing this year, but one thing that DID happen is that I made a book!
I co-wrote it with my friend Heather McClelland, who runs a phenomenal singing, songwriting and beatboxing program at the Royal Brompton Hospital called Vocal Beats, with my friend (and previous Katch-Up guest!!) Bellatrix.
Heather and I met when she was working at Great Ormond Street as a musician-in-residence with GOSH Arts, and we bonded instantly over - among other things - our shared woe at the lack of decent resources for introducing young people to a new instrument. So many of the books we’d found were either too childish or dispiritingly complicated, and a lot of the websites and apps are too overwhelming; fizzing with pop-up ads.
So we decided to make the book we’d always wanted to find - one that we could give out - for free - to children and young people in hospital.
Beautiful printed copies are given out to patients and families at Great Ormond Street and the Royal Brompton Hospitals, but the powers that be are also working out how to make hard copies available for purchase/donation to the GOSH & Royal Brompton charities.
In the meantime, you can download the PDF for free!
There’s also a document that will print nicely to A4, so if you’d like a copy of that, get in touch and I’d be more than happy to send it your way.
Oh, and we also made a series of video tutorials to accompany the book, as advertised here by my beautiful nephew:
And that’s it!
Love,
Katya