Dear reader,
How do you feel about time?
Clock-ins and clock-outs. Paid time off. Just in time. On time. Timeline. Waste time. Kill time. Spend time. Make time.
I imagine a woman behind a loom, weaving.
She is making time. The colors, like light itself, are infinite, awake, and possible. Hers is an unrushed process. She takes a pause here, enjoys a cup of tea there. She steps outside for a breath of whatever air the outside holds. The sun is warm against her cheeks. As she walks, blood moves through her body and she can feel it, can sense its energy stirring. She is aware, always, of her aliveness. She does not fear losing time. Never would she count or measure how well she uses it. Time is her art and she is its maker.
While I love this woman, she is a myth.
“If you really value something, you make time for it,” people say. Chronos time is finite, though. We cannot make it, we can only exchange it. Often, we must exchange one thing we value for another.
I always thought unemployment would make me feel useless, that I’d lose myself in the gulf of purposeless time.
What has surprised me is that my time has been no less full, but has felt so much more fulfilling. I am still at work. There is the writing practice, yes, and the wedding planning, and the teaching yoga. But there’s also all of the other life labors that I also once did - and most of us do - while still working full time.
Typically, I must shove so much muchness into the tiniest crannies that nothing feels done well, nor feels done with intention or mindfulness.
In the past month, my stress levels have lowered. My poor dog is actually getting walked. I can smell garlic in olive oil and see light filtering through particles of dust. Until I remember my savings are diminishing and all my senses clam up as a red alarm blares through my brain.
I become bitter about the need to earn an income when so many labors are equally important, take equal time, but are unpaid.
The sociologist William J. Goode coined the term “role strain,” which at least makes me feel less juvenile in my whining. When someone juggles multiple roles, it causes strain, which of course diminishes performance in all or some of the roles. Women, unsurprisingly, are more time impoverished than men globally.
Sometimes I think, “I wish I didn’t feel this compulsive commitment to write,” because how peaceful it would be to come home from work, take care of the chores, and then rest. Sometimes I think, “I will never be able to have children because I have no extra time to give.”
Joe and I have been talking about the absurdity of time being exchanged for money.
Though technically we get paid for our work, our work is measured in time. In the US, full-time work gets benefits that part-time usually doesn’t – including PTO, health insurance, retirement contributions, and more. The whole system is set up so that the more time we give, the more reward we reap. I resist this. I wonder how much Joe and I need to earn to live and how much time must we exchange for those earnings? How might we organize our lives in a way that invites balance and harmony, not overload and stress? How do we factor in leisure as we consider our commitments?
We don’t know the answers to these questions yet, but we are living our way through them. Meanwhile, somewhere, a woman sits behind a loom, weaving.
Until next time,
A
Practice with me.
How to Reimagine and Manage Your Writing Practice
Zoom Seminar
Saturday, November 18th, 2023
9AM -12PM Central Time
This class is for all creatives (and secret creatives) who feel their practice may be lacking structure, consistency, or direction. In this 3 hour Seminar, you will reorient your creative practice in your values and intentions with your unique schedule in mind. We will discuss strategies, possibilities, and examples for the myriad of ways a creative life may look. With a new toolbox in tow, your practice might just start to feel less anxiety-ridden, more purposeful, and more fulfilling.
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