14/08/2017
I’ve always struggled to be gracious. Maybe because it requires a certain slowness, an acreage in my mind that I never seem to carve out. Usually I’m madly dashing, rather than calmly assessing. But I’ve been in NZ for the past week, and although I have failed in small ways at my Don’t Do Any Work plan, I’ve largely stuck to it.
The past couple of days I’ve even been without the internet, which is A Thing for me, a welcome thing in this case. I’ve been walking and cooking and assessing how black black sand really is (it’s more of an anthracite grey really?). I’ve been reading and pondering and stretching my weary body, and, I have found myself not wanting.
I’ve never been on holiday like this before. Last time I went on a “holiday” was right after I launched Starving Artist. I was high on the success of that and up at all hours trying to find good locations to record in, and skipping out on hikes and reading and pondering all to service The Work. Some of you will already know the end of that story: I got salmonella poisoning and ended up having a less than good time, and I still can’t eat dairy.
I thought that I might struggle with the listlessness, the lack of actionable tasks, perhaps because I have this creeping fear of being alone with my own brain, of where we may go together.
But I have found not fear, but an open-mouthed gratitude. The kind that is in awe of the sky and the sand, the one that says “oh wow!” and is unashamed at celebrating the shockingly beautiful reality of our own existence. The one that sounds like a slightly cool hallmark card, and that doesn’t care because maybe greeting cards are right about life a lot of the time??
And this extends not just to the landscape, not just to my friends and family, but also to my work. The thing is, my life is kind of my work, and much of my work has this unnamed guilt attached to it. Genuinely one of the things I find hardest is as simple as wrestling with the emails I get. The kind that say things like “thank you”, and “me too”. Despite what I would sometimes like to think, I can reply to so very few of them, and so usually they just sit on my chest, immovable, heavy.
But something about being here, about the conversations I’ve been having, about the things I’ve been reading, has helped me to shift that slightly, and to simply just hear it.
I feel p self-indulgey writing this, like “oh it’s so hard having ppl connect with my work”, but I think just generally it’s hard to really hear good feedback. We are biologically wired to give space to things that threaten us, and so appreciation for our work often gets sidelined, hell I even went through a period of not being able to even read nice emails from ppl, because it just inspired too much guilt.
It’s funny really, for me I spend so much of my time trying to make useful stuff for people, stuff that speaks to ppl in a particular way, and then when people tell me it’s working, I clam up. I guess it’s like stage fright. Or perhaps it’s actually just kind of scary when things seem to be working, because you’re afraid of losing it.
I dunno, and I think it’ll be some time before I do know. But what I know for now is Thank You. Thank you to everyone over the past few years who’s found me, who’s connected with my work, and particularly to those who have sent me some of the most gorgeous emails over the past few years. You make my heart swell in a way I am genuinely afraid of. Thank you for the fear, I think it means something is going right.