Coincidentally, I am typing this out after weeks of inconsistency in my own writing. Time is flying by, my schedule could not be more sporadic, and I am beating myself up constantly. There is seemingly always more that I could be doing. It is not simply that I am not “doing” enough, it is that the world around me halts for no one. My doing nothing, seems to shout out glaringly in a world quietly buzzing along. I think of these things and ask myself why. The answer often only leads me to one conclusion. Without batting an eye, I resolve myself to the usual go-to; sidling up close to helplessness.
It has taken feeling so dejected to finally realize the answer is actually consistency. Nothing needs to be perfect or make sense, and I feel that now as I clip-clap away on my keyboard. I’m even contemplating if that is an accurate way of portraying what I’m doing. I guess maybe click-clacking makes more sense? That’s beside the point. All that matters is that there are words here. Words that flow out onto this page, that I can return to later and maybe even potentially make sense of one day.
Capitalism rears its ugly head all the time, but especially when it comes to our art and the things that bring us joy. I think that is also why my creativity seems to have dried up recently. Output is paramount. Results only come from finished things. Yet, there is value in incompleteness, and those things that maybe no one will ever see or understand. Sometimes, “resting” can just be creating without all of the worry that comes with producing.
Yes, rest is crucial, but I can also think of all the ways creating serves as a restorative force in my life. It is the goal of producing something that makes it more difficult. I lost sight of the value that simply typing out my thoughts brings me, and all because I got lucky a few times with instances where thinkpieces seemed to just fall into my lap. Perhaps, what was really happening was I was being consistent in my craft. However, consistency without intentionality is a recipe for burnout.
The way I did not make this connection until I started typing it out here!
Determining what intentionality means on any given day is something I still have my own concerns about. None of us are static creatures, and the things that drive us to think and grow can also inadvertently shift us away from wherever we began. It seems fitting, to be taking stock of things in this way at the start of a new year. I’m struggling to find my footing though–struggling with finding consistency again. Perhaps, it is quite meta, and for now it is the fodder I need to keep my creativity afloat. Today, this can be my intention, to get these words out. Tomorrow, I might set my sights elsewhere, and find something to say that goes beyond the blockages of my mind.
I feel like I need mental ginger. You know? I feel like I have just been eating sushi piece after sushi piece and now everything, the flavors and textures, has melded together. How does one cleanse their creative palate? Is it possible to kind of wipe this slate clean? I want to believe something new can be born of this consistency that I am now trying to center. However, where do pauses exist in something that seems to always be moving? Is it easier to build something from existing pieces and fragments than it is start from the ground up?
More questions for later!