Turning a pain in the neck into something restorative
The same day I was released from the hospital, Joan Westenberg posted an interesting essay, “The Harvest Will Come,” on downtime and the cyclical nature of creativity.
We accept that the world needs rest periods built into its operating system.
But when it comes to our own sense of meaning and purpose, our work, our lives, we expect constant summer.
The catch, particularly for our own sense of purpose, is that “downtime” is often frowned upon and even considered a form of failure, if not by others, then by ourselves.
Westenberg’s perspective is that of choice and/or the inevitability of going through less-than-creative periods, and of learning to accept them as not only inevitable but also healthy and restorative.
What I failed to notice: that the fallow periods were doing something too. They were composting. I was taking in books and conversations and experiences without the pressure to immediately metabolize them into output. I was wandering without a map, which meant I sometimes stumbled into territory I never would have found if I’d been navigating by GPS.
It’s natural and inevitable.
And then sometimes life hits you over the head, or the neck, with it in entirely unnatural ways.
The thoughts are timely for me.
I’ve always had a kind of “disaster plan” in the back of my mind for the things I do and create. Within days, I’d put publications on hiatus, accepted help from my staff to keep some wheels turning, albeit slightly more slowly, and just in general prepared to step away from almost everything I do.
I’ve also been on an unsubscribe binge, dramatically reducing the number of newsletters and other publications that land in my inbox every day.
Given that my recovery process is proceeding faster than I anticipated, for which I’m incredibly grateful, of course, this presents a dilemma: I could restart the machine faster than expected. I could “go back to work”, so to speak, sooner rather than later.
My original plan put a stake in the ground to return in “mid January” or thereabouts. Honestly, I could get back in the saddle next week for much of what I do. The only catch would be Ask Leo! videos between neck brace and voice still under recovery.
Not gonna do it.
I’m electing to embrace the fallow time, at least into the new year. We’ll see what happens thereafter. I could extend it, I could change aspects of how and what I do, I could … I don’t know. And that’s kinda the point; to use the time to just be. To consume by choice, write and reflect without pressure, all while explicitly prioritizing rest and recovery.
So pardon me while I compost for a bit.
(In Princess Bride voice) Have fun with the compost! 😀
I’m glad you’re doing so well. AND that you are embracing fallow time. <3
I wish I knew you in the real world, Leo. You seem to have your head on straight and would be a good friend. I will miss you while you recover and wish the very best for you.
I am so happy to hear that you are recovering from what could have been a very life damaging injury.
As for cutting back or taking a hiatus from the passions that have become “jobs”, good for you!
I look forward to whatever you care to create and share. But embrace your recovery. And the establishment of a “work-life balance.” That comes first. (IMHO)
I’m sure a good percentage of us have been reading your musings with an air of “Hmmm. What if I…?”
You’re setting a good example for us all. Ponder. Prepare — not for the inevitable, but for the What-if. Persevere.
And through it all, remember gratitude.
Gratitude will be getting its own post down the road. It’s huge.
I applaud your decision of taking fallow time. It is a thong that my neurodivergent brain required. Even before i got my diagnosis. I was at that time 57. I doubted the diagnosis of autism for a while until i remembered my memories of being a child between 4 and 7 years old. I was wary of strangers in our house. Strangers were friends of my 9 siblings i had not seen before. I was not good in social contact with children of my age. And a lot of other things that fitted the autistic diagnosis very well, because neurodivergency often shows different in girls and women and also in some boys and men than the classic symptoms of autism. I also have trauma, most neurodivegent people have that. I need lots of time alone as well. To recuperate. Or in other words: exploring nature around me, by bicycle (i am born and bred in the Netherlands and also live there again) or walking.