ESCAPE // ESPACE

“A freelance life, a life in the arts, is sometimes like putting messages in bottles, on a desert island, and hoping that someone will find one of your bottles and open it and read it, and put something in a bottle that will wash its way back to you: appreciation, or a commission, or money, or love. And you have to accept that you may put out a hundred things for every bottle that winds up coming back.”

- Neil Gaiman

This time of year has a dreary feel to it, some dread, dampness and despair and probably other D words as well. I've been in the dregs, questioning my work, feeling overwhelmed, and deep in self-criticism. It's a time to consider escape, in all its forms: sleep, travel, busy-ness, apathy and depression. What is it with those D words?!

But what happens if, instead of continuing to slog through, to check-off to-do items and rush home after work and stay up late reading or scrolling or bingeing - what if we give ourselves some space to feel the heaviness, to let it slow us down to a pace that our sodden minds can keep up with? This month, I have pulled the plug on a few planned activities, gone to bed instead of doing "one more chore," and allowed myself to sit and think, feel, or rest - simply stare off into space for long moments at a time. My body is thankful, and responds with less anxiety, better sleep, and a need for less coffee. My heart is able to respond with more kindness and consideration towards strangers and friends alike, and I feel the whispers of revival. Those dormant ideas and creative inspirations are bubbling away, taking their time, and I am learning to trust that with a little space (rather than flat-out escape), things have a way of falling into place.

(I did escape, briefly, to the Bow Valley :)

What Gaiman writes is true, in a way: as a writer I have to accept that most of what I write floats off into the void, and only a trickle of acknowledgment or satisfaction may make its way back. And yet, something about the act of writing, the choice to sit and type or scribe, the irrational devotion to a blank page and the possibilities it holds, has a magical allure to it. There is a pull that sparkles and whispers and doesn't let go, no matter how little you receive in the way of positive feedback.

I am a writer. And, I have so much to learn.

This link from Paul Kingsnorth at The Wyrd School, a retreat centre and writing school on the West coast of Ireland (bucket list, anyone?!), gives me hope when the days feel long, uninspired and circuitous:

https://wyrdschool.ie/advice-for-writers/

Kingsnorth also started the Dark Mountain Project (writing worth checking out!) and operates a mentoring service for writers. He recommends that anyone writing poetry reads Richard Hugo's essay, "Triggering Towns," so I did. This is what Hugo has to say:

“Your triggering subjects are those that ignite your need for words. When you are honest to your feel­ings, that triggering town chooses you. Your words used your way will generate your meanings. Your obsessions lead you to your vocabulary. Your way of writing locates, even creates, your inner life. The relation of you to your language gains power. The relation of you to the triggering subject weakens.” 

Good stuff.

And because, on grey days, it helps to look to friends for inspiration, I'll include one more excerpt here.  I recently read something that soothed the despair in me, a post by my friend Tad Hargrave titled, "You Are Actually Not Good Enough." It contains many gems, among them this one:

"Humans evolved in the context of a village. This is something that, in the back of our minds, we know but often forget. We've all heard the proverb that it takes a village to raise a child. But it also takes a village to be born. To initiate that child. To get married. To die. To resolve a conflict. To be human takes a village.

Every worthwhile human endeavour takes a village.

Stated another way: an individual can't do it.

Stated another way: your romantic partner can't do it for you.

Stated another way: the nuclear family can't do it.

Stated another way: concerning all significant and worthwhile human endeavours you are inadequate to the task.

And what's so bad about that?

Coming to grips with that only means despair if we think we should be able to handle it all on our own.

Without that thought, our recognition of our inadequacy becomes not the roadblock but the doorway to more village in the world as we ask for more and more help."

art by Chiara Bautista

JK! I still have one more to share. Thank you to Martha Graham, whose words lift me up and remind me to keep going, as a writer and a human:

"There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening

that is translated through you into action,

and because there is only one of you in all time,

this expression is unique.

If you block it,

it will never exist through any other medium

and be lost.

The world will not have it.

It is not yours to determine how good it is;

nor how it compares with other expressions.

It is your business to keep the channel open.

You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work.

You have to keep open and aware directly

to the urges that motivate you.

Keep the channel open.

No artist is ever pleased.

There is no satisfaction whatever at any time.

There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction;

a blessed unrest that keeps us marching

and makes us more alive than the others."

--Martha Graham to Agnes De Mille

Here's to our blessed unrest - our divine dissatisfactions and irrational motivations and the rest of the messy business of living. Here's to slowing down and creating space - allowing space - to enter our lives to make way for the heaviness of the season, and for the light that can be found in all this darkness. 

Much love,
Christine