Neighboring

I sometimes stand and stare at the leaves of the oak trees cascading over our front yard. It feels slow, mundane, incredibly peaceful. The sun casts shadows of indeterminate objects as the leaves part with the breeze and for a second, I forget all the noise. The noise in my head, on our phones, in the air, permanent currents of what technology has brought us. The quiet is interrupted by a shriek of laughter, the twin boys two doors down running circles around their house, the putt putt of an old vespa that the neighbor across the way has been tinkering with. It’s an interesting idea, the fact that we can literally hear the lives of those around us when we’re listening, when we’re aware. When our heads aren’t buried in our screens, imagining a friendship or opportunity based on profiles and likes.

This isn’t the case for everyone in the world, let alone in the US, but here in LA and other major cities where land is scarce and lot sizes are small, we’re living alongside one another. We share walls and fences, more ideally, sugar and flour. The very streets we come home to give way to human connection, conversations in person, a thoughtful note exchanged and muffins delivered. And while our neighborhoods remain, these interactions are becoming more and more rare as we confine our worlds to a small handheld device. What you long for is just ahead, it says. We are connected, it says.

The heart behind our Neighborly Notes sets was to bring us back to relationships in real life. An invitation to keep a pile of them in your drawers for those moments just because - your roses are looking so beautiful this season, baked cookies last night and thought you might enjoy a few. We celebrate technology and all that we’re able to do because of it, but we’re challenging ourselves to consider what we’re not able to do when we forget to look up. Will you do so with us this year? It can start with one note.