In a Twinkling: Tiny Gestures and the Art of Being Bemused


Hello Kindred Spirit!

The Ring

My husband stopped wearing his wedding ring about ten years ago. Honestly? I was a little crushed. My brain, ever helpful, immediately began generating meaning. Was something wrong? Were we okay? The story I was weaving had a worrying thread running through it.

His explanation was simple and completely reasonable. He'd taken up climbing, and rings and climbing don't mix. After a while, it was just easier to leave it off. My brain noted this, filed it under plausible, and kept worrying. Anyway.

Here's what I couldn't have anticipated: the thrill I get when he puts it back on.

He remembers for special occasions — a dinner out, a date day. Last summer, he wore it for the entire month we were in Bellingham — a period when we would not be climbing. A few days ago, I came out modeling a proposed outfit for a movie date (Project Hail Mary!), he smiled and said it looked great, and later he appeared wearing his ring. I noticed immediately. Something in me went quiet and bright at the same time. Forty-two years in, and I felt like a newlywed.

I look back now at my worried self with what I can only call bemused affection — that warm, slightly amused tenderness toward someone working very hard on the wrong problem. That someone was me. I had no idea what the ring's absence actually meant. I had no idea what its occasional return would do to me.

This is what I mean by bemused witnessing — not cold detachment, not Stoic remove, but a quality of watching your own life with a slight tilt of the head and a twinkle in the eye. It's married to that Isn't This Surprising? curiosity from my last newsletter, the one that keeps you from locking meaning down too soon.

Because you never know what something will actually turn out to mean. Add tiny gestures to that, and you have the ingredients for a rich life.

The Cinnamon

Every morning, in my pre-coffee stupor, I make us both a cup. And every morning, without really thinking about it, I reach for the cinnamon and add a tiny sprinkle to his. It's automatic now — my hands know what he likes before my brain has fully arrived for the day.

Anticipating someone's need before they voice it is the smallest gesture. It's also the one that says most clearly: I've been paying attention.

On his birthday, or Christmas, I go one further. I foam the milk, take out a small template, and shake the cinnamon through it to form twin hearts.

Forty-two years of tiny gestures, accumulating quietly. The ring on his finger. Our hearts in his cup. Neither of us making a big production of it. Both of us, I think, feeling it enormously.

The bemused witness — the one with the twinkle — is not detached from life. She's paying closer attention than anyone. She's just not braced against it anymore.

She left a little room for surprise.

And surprise, it turns out, is where the good stuff lives.


A few places where we can keep paying attention together:

Upcoming Events

  • ​Las Vegas Writers Conference — April 23–25, 2026 | Sam's Town Hotel & Casino
    • Writing Under a Pen Name — April 23, 4 pm
    • Naked Writing — April 25, 10 am
    • Sensory Awakening for Writers — April 25, 3 pm
  • ​Write Now Mind — April session began April 5, but there's still time to join
  • ​Write by Red Rock — First Wednesdays at 12:30 pm | Next: May 6
  • Write by the Sea — Weekly writing practice group (by invitation — just ask!)
  • ​International Memoir Writing Association – On a panel: Writing about Love and Sexuality, August 1, 2026, 2:30 pm
  • ​Village Books, Bellingham — Naked Writing Workshop | August 2, 2026, 2 pm

Good News

video preview​
  • The Premise — Finally happening! A conversation with Jeniffer and Chad Thompson — stay tuned!

Smiles,

​https://marijkemccandless.com

​Kirkus Reviews endorses Naked in the Now!​

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The Naked Nowletter

Welcome to The Naked Nowletter! My community is for those seeking a deeper connection with their true essence and a more intimate relationship with themselves, others, and the unseen world. We explore authentic communication, connection, and what it means to get Naked in the Now. Each week, I share a personal story, enriching thoughts, and juicy practices—plus occasional links to articles that inspire presence and transformation.

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