This is a Metaphor
There are so many ways to be a person. This Is A Metaphor is what happens when a curious creative can’t stop connecting dots. Life hands you a breakup, a bird call, a bagel? Boom. That’s a metaphor. This show isn’t therapy, and it isn’t theater, but it is art. It’s an existential treasure hunt—with jokes. Hosted by Mo Houston, a sharp-witted, soul-deep storyteller who views life through many lenses. She who knows the world makes sense… if you squint really hard. She’s lived out of suitcases and studios, built brands and burned out, laughed onstage and cried in voice notes. This podcast is kind of a memoir, a mirror, and definitely a metaphor.
This is a Metaphor
Musings: Left Unsaid
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The day after Christmas has its own quiet electricity—the kind that lingers in the air when the lights are still up, the floor is a little glittered, and the stories of yesterday are still warm. We lean into that charge to explore how simple comforts—fresh socks, a full stocking, a perfectly folded corner of wrapping paper—can feel more luxurious than anything extravagant. Then we follow that thread into a different kind of package: a holiday message from someone we loved, and the complicated hope that comes with it.
You’ll hear how anticipation can be its own gift, why we sometimes dress the surface when we’re unsure about the substance, and what it means to hold the last present just a little longer because the not knowing tastes sweeter than certainty. We unpack the delicate choreography of reading or not reading a text preview, the pull between information and intactness, and the choice to respond without reopening old doors. Along the way, we trade heart emojis for a single star—our shorthand for steady light, quiet confidence, and comfort in the unknown.
If you’ve ever wanted a message that arrives neat and polite but somehow not enough, this conversation offers language for that ache and a way through it. We talk boundaries, invitations that aren’t really invitations, and the surprising power of leaving things unsaid. Most of all, we practice the posture of anything could happen—not as a cliché, but as a daily discipline that keeps us receptive to new friendships, new turns, and gifts that arrive right on time.
If this resonates & helps you breathe easier into the unknown, follow the show, share it with a friend who’s between pages, and leave a quick review so more listeners can find our corner of quiet electricity.
What unopened “gift” are you choosing to keep sealed today?
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Email Mo: mo@joyscoutstudio.com
“Don’t get Deterred, get Inspired”
Welcome to an outdoor recording of This Is a Metaphor, and I am delighted to say that it is the day after Christmas. I didn't get any socks, and I think that that is just we're gonna pretend that I said think and not think. I think it's one of those I always was delighted to get socks for Christmas. I found them to be pleasant and soft and would carry me through to the new year in a very luxurious manner, and and did not have received any socks this year. That just I it my my world has been rocked. Yet it reminds me of what I find to be truly luxurious, which is maybe some of the simplest stuff. Like when you've got a fresh ass pair of socks and like your sneakers, and you're just walking around, and it is the softest, plushest the world is different when you've got new socks. I just got back from my my workout at the gym, and when I was there, I was thinking about how I how I had a pair of white socks that maybe have seen that maybe are no longer white, you know, you know what I mean? And I was thinking about the feeling of having like a stocking, because I used to get I used to get socks on my stocking, and which is a very fitting place, you know, it's a giant sock, and then there's like baby socks inside. And I just there's a very plush and abundant feeling of holding a stocking filled with things, and you don't know what's inside, and you're not really in a rush to get to the bottom because it's it's like a tiny treasures are just falling out. And my I mean, my mom was especially good at just making things fit in those big, big stockings, and it's a real treat, I think, to be a gift giver that knows the person that they're really giving a gift to. And when I say that, I mean, you know, some years there are people in my family that I just don't know what to get them for gifts. I guess like I find it to be very challenging, and yet some years everything feels like, you know, like the idea just comes to you, and and it's and it's it was it was like the I the idea for the gift is the gift that you've been given by some great, some great being, the gift gods, or like this is probably what you should get them, and you receive it and you do your best to get it to them. And this year I didn't have a lot of that feeling. I feel like there was far more thinking involved and waiting and then trying to figure out something thoughtful to give. And I remember one of the last gifts that I was opening up. I always have that little that feeling, and it's probably just a wonderfully juvenile feeling that hopefully I'll have forever, which was like, oh, it's my last present. And and it was wrapped, and my my dad had wrapped it, and it was very tightly wrapped because he's very precise with his wrapping. Um, very I still I have a vivid memory of my dad wrapping a giant box for me one of my grandparents growing up with this big roll of wrapping paper and just the precise way in which he folded the corners and applied the tape and folded, you know, and it was like whoa. It was artful. And you know, I like to I like to make my presents look good and happy and sparkly, and and I like to dazzle with them a lot, but I'll definitely cut corners. Like if I don't cut the paper exactly the right size, I'll still try to fold it around the box, you know, even if there's like a gap, like I'll put a bow around that the the spot on the side that is still showing the underneath because I I didn't measure it appropriately, or I'll get more ribbon, or I'll tape extra paper, you know? And I'll still, you know, it's like a it's like a it's like a magician and you're just trying to especially if maybe you don't feel as great about the gift that you got, like the you better wrap it like fucking like it's an amazing present because that part needs to feel great. And when I had my my last gift of the the day, and I didn't want to rush to open it, like I just kind of wanted to hold it because I wanted to hold that feeling of not knowing, and it's like one of the only moments where not knowing is so incredibly comfortable. It's like such an excitement of like, oh, what is it, and not being in a rush to get there because it doesn't whatever whatever's inside is is likely not as extravagant as whatever this undescribable feeling is that I have at not knowing what's inside or what it could be or what it could hold, or what if what is it? And and sometimes, you know, they do deliver, but like that, I think that's the the magic of a gift and the paper and the not knowing. And I've been thinking about that feeling of just kind of wanting to not rush the present. It's funny because my my dad was like, no, you should just open it because it's not, you know, it was essentially a present that had been in another pile that was supposed to be with one of the presents that he'd gotten me as because they were related. And so it was like a a bottle of like very special sauce because I he'd gotten me this big um outdoor like cast iron bowl that you make ramen in, and then he got me a lot of stuff to make ramen with, and and it was really thoughtful, but like because it was just a wrapped box with a bottle of sauce inside, it was like a funny moment where he knew what was in it, and it just wasn't gonna be as thoughtful now because it had been quite a hot second since I opened the original gift. And the feeling of like not knowing what is inside, like I just I didn't want to rush through that. And I was like, no, I just wanna like I just it just felt like happy, very, very happy and interesting to me because yesterday I knew going into the day, uh being that it was Christmas, that I really wanted to hear from you know this person that I had been dating. And I mean, because we've we've broken up and and we haven't there's you know, there's been no there's been no texting or contact, and there's been quite a a break of of all that and potentially forever. But I knew that I wanted to get a message because it's like I needed to know that the time that we had spent together, which was a considerable amount of time, and the love that we'd exchanged and the thoughts and the literal presence, the presence of having somebody like that to be your person and to share your your day with and your in your thoughts and in your fears and all of that, and and to be in a relationship with someone and to then not have that person available to you is like it's a different type of it's a different type of sadness that you can't just pretend isn't there, even if the relationship, you know, was maybe bound to end. It's still it's still like that loss of not having those parts that you really loved is is boo, not happy. And and so I did. I wanted some sort of just like Merry Christmas message or or you know, like a thinking of you message or whatever it is, even though that would be probably not good. Um you know, my perfect little heart desired something like that, and I wanted that for her, even though I knew that if I got it, the in the the content of that message would not be it wouldn't make me feel so good, you know, and it's not that it would make me it's not that it would break my heart, it would just it would just be not enough. Like, and I would still have some sort of longing, like some sort of feeling of like this isn't it and it wasn't it, and and yet why couldn't why can't you just say the thing that I want to hear? You know, like something like that. And it is wild that I said that out loud just now, because it's the truth. But and so I just kind of wanted it to sit there for a second because I wanted to feel just the feeling of knowing that it was there, and and that I didn't quite know what was inside, but like I saw the bow, you know, because you can see the first two lines of the message before you click in and you read it, and then you know, and you can no longer pretend that you don't know. And I pondered whether or not I would say anything, you know, and I was like, maybe it's just great if I don't say anything back. And so I was thinking about that, and I was like, well, you just don't know what it is that was said, so you can't really, you know, you're not gonna know until you read this thing. And so, and then it just became a thought of like, do you wait until the end of the day when who knows what's inside of this could ruin your night? Or do you read it now? And then is it gonna make you feel a certain way for the rest of Christmas? You know, and so then I just had this feeling where I was like, maybe I didn't want this message, you know, like maybe it's not in my best interest. And so I let it sit there for a little while, and I didn't turn my read receipts on because I feel like every once in a while I would do that to someone when I want them to know that I read it, you know, like have fun knowing that I read this, then I didn't say anything. But also, there's a little bit of power in not having a read receipt and then not saying anything. Um and I just had to ask myself what I wanted. Like, what was what is the feeling that you want? And what's gonna make you feel good? I kept asking, like, what's gonna make me feel good? Is not saying something gonna make me feel good? Um, is saying the wrong thing gonna make me feel good? Is saying the right thing gonna make you know? And it was just kind of like clicked into the message to see what he said. It was sweet and simple and enthusiastic as far as wishing one a Merry Christmas, you know? And it was definitely wrapped in care and precision, and it didn't have any openings for conversation. Like it wasn't, it wasn't to converse, it wasn't checking in. It was just to say, you know, that I was such a wonderful part of their year. And there was a thank you in there, you know, and I just it was like a business transaction and I didn't love it. At first it felt fine, and then it sat in my, you know, but then like about half hour later, I was thinking about it again. And I was like, this is not my favorite message. And it's just one of those things. Is it better to have sent or not to have sent? And I guess I just don't, oh no, no. But I got what I asked for. Like I got my little sad, meager breadcrumb Christmas wish. And um, it was fulfilled. And I decided to respond back with this just of a close-ended message. Um, because that's like that's just who I am. And unless someone, unless for some reason I thought that he was like a horrible person, I I wouldn't just not say anything. And now I'm wondering why I can't be that person. Like, why can I not just say anything? Like, why, what if I don't say anything? That doesn't mean I think it's because for me that means that he's done something terribly wrong. And and I don't know that he has. And yet maybe it's something that I want to adjust from here on out. Like, I don't want, I don't have to respond. And it doesn't mean that you're not a good person. It doesn't mean you've done anything wrong. It just means that there's nothing left to say because you already know that I meant it when I said that I loved you, you know? Like I already said that. And yet I sent the message and I wouldn't change the way that I said it. I thought about it for a hot second, and I sent just as much of a close-ended message, and I didn't include a heart emoji or a Christmas tree emoji, you know. I just included a little star because that is the energy that I am fucking manifesting for this year, which is that of the star. Just shining bright, shooting, shootin' one shots, being up in the dark unknown, and twinkling, and being okay with not knowing and trying deeply to be excited about the fact that I don't know. And that that's invigorating because anything could be because anything could happen, you know, like anything could happen. And I like that thought the most. Like, I really love sitting and filling myself with the the energy of anything can happen at any second that will change your life for for the better, for good, for for just, you know, like one you just turn a fucking corner and you meet your new best friend. Like you turn a corner and you you and you change your life, and something could just happen at any second that that takes the wrapping paper right off, and you have this total gift that has been working its way to you for who knows how long, but now you're in a place where you can open it. And you just have to turn one more page, turn one more corner, turn your head the other direction, turn over, turn up, um just get turned. And who knows what will arrive and what will be waiting, and and what happens if you left something unsaid. Like I think I'm excited about leaving things unsaid. There feels as though there's quite a bit of power in that, and personal power, and and pres the preservation of one's power and leaving something unsaid. I a lot of people don't really need to hear those things, actually. But I do that because I think that I've needed that for so long, and to be able to step into what will be a new year, what can be left unsaid? What can be left on read? And where's the power in that? Again, what does it feel like and and what does it taste like? What do I put down because of that? And I, you know, I asked for a message, I got the message, and now what I have is the deeper understanding of what it is that I really want, which is yeah, to be okay with not being understood. And I guess that's the thing about asking and receiving, which is that sometimes you get exactly what you asked for, and the feeling that you have is not what you wanted. It's what you needed, and it's okay, it's okay that you're a cliche, it's okay that you're a statistic. Numbers are important, and if you're statistic, it's nice to be amongst other statistics. If I've learned anything about being in a group or just a herd mentality, the numbers, the numbers need other numbers. I mean, if numbers didn't have other numbers, we wouldn't need to count. You've gotta be a statistic from time to time. Because like, how else would we have graphs? We need graphs and tables because we need pictures of numbers. And if you're not contributing to the numbers, then they're just empty containers with nothing in them. Nothing, nothing. We would be staring at nothingness, and nothing would make sense.