It's never too late to stop smooshing bananas
My three year old son has learned that reasons get you excused from things–or at the very least buy you time. Though his rationale has yet to be cause-and-effect for his own sake, he understands that this is the kind of logic adults value. So, he does his best to play along. The other day, for example, he came up with: "But, I'm too sad to stop smooshing banana on your arm."
See what I mean?
I caught myself today in what I will now call a too-sad-to-stop-smooshing-bananas loop. In short, I had a good story for why I was stuck, miserable, floundering — and it had as much correlation with my capacity to get things done as happiness has with banana smooshing.
That Mommy voice inside of me stepped in with the voice of reason. "You can be sad and stop smooshing banana at the same time," it said. "And that's what I am asking you to do now."
Thanks, Mommy voice, for reminding me that any moment, we can stop telling ourselves we can't, and instead, simply do what can be done.
I had the kind of week that put this principle to the test. My son's preschool transition issues + growth spurt added up to a few weeks solid of around-the-clock tantruming and eating. We had little rest or peace. Client work, in parallel was 12-hours-a-day kind of intense, and it occurred to me for the first time that juggling a variety of client projects as a consultant is very much like having five or so children at a time who are all, in effect, only children, with overlapping emergencies, needs, demands and interpersonal challenges.
"You can be exhausted, hopeless, overwhelmed and stop smooshing banana at the same time," said the voice.
I decided to focus on what felt within reach.
I fed and bathed and played with my child, drove him back and forth to school, got my client work done well and on time. I walked my dogs and took one to the veterinarian. This much, this week, was triumph. (I didn't sleep, I ate badly, the dishes and pet hair drifts sat unattended for a while–ok). How did the writing life hold up within this single-parenting-supporting-a-family life? By a spider's thread: invisible, but strong and deeply connected to the margins of everything. I updated my writing to-do list so that I'd know what was of highest priority when I could actually sit at my desk with the luxury of time to write something. Made my piles of unsorted stuff tidy so they wouldn't distract me when I entered my office. I also wrote down every administrative to-do — several pages worth — for the coming months so those logistics could stop jangling around inside my head, making space for creative rumination. And, I asked my subconscious to do some of the heavy creative lifting for me as I slept. Several dreams, as a result, have informed my sense of direction for my writing in the works as well as my life. (And, I had to take a step back to remind myself that: successful client work = mortgage + food + clothing. These are all necessities in the writing life.) Creative writing accomplished? No. Creative foundation reinforced? Yes. It's what I could do this week.
I was reminded that when you can't act, planning can be both a satisfying and productive substitute. Can't write for 2 hours? Spend 2 minutes imagining and outlining what the next 2-hour session will accomplish — this gets the session in motion long before you get butt in chair. Dream about it, hold it in a designated place in your mind while you are committed to thinking about other things. Be curious, be sloppy, be exhausted and defeated if you need to be, but understand that even in this moment you have options.
Smoosh or don't smoosh bananas as you like, but don't let it stop you from appreciating and spinning that invisible web that is strung one intention, one action, at a time, deeper and deeper into the impossible.
