Turn around, bright eyes
Okay, yes, corny reference to the eclipse, on a post that doesn’t have anything to do with the eclipse.
I spent the past four days surrounded by other writers, at all stages of the book journey, at a retreat center nestled in the Carmel Valley, a protected bubble away from real life. Nothing to think about except writing and perhaps whether or not you want to go to yoga.
There is something sacred about gathering in a community of people who “get it,” whether for a few minutes or a few days. I’ve been lucky enough to experience this magic with other writers, with other runners, with other work colleagues, other scientists when I was a student. It’s nice to just fully lean into that part of my identity for that period of time.
Of course, it’s hard to then come back and have those other parts of my identity—parts I truly want to keep—jockeying for time and brain space. Even writing this post, rather than defaulting to my book project, seems a bit clunky and weird. I distract myself from feeling this discomfort by looking up again when totality will be and emails I need to follow up on and whether or not I’m hungry or maybe I should take my computer outside and find focus there.
It would be nice, to bottle up that retreat feeling and bring it back home, to have that ease. But that ease is only possible because so many distractions have been removed, distractions that cannot be ignored forever, day jobs that are necessarily waiting for us, families and dogs who fill us with love who also require attention and time, houses to clean and meals to prepare and news to read. Phones become easier to scroll through, emails become urgent, the to-do list becomes much longer.
I can immediately feel my brain expand in my skull with its whirling thoughts. Last night I had trouble falling asleep, my mind bouncing between plot points and structure of my book, and also all the other life things that I can’t just ignore in order to write.
For me, the key isn’t to try to wipe my life clean in a way that lets me emulate perfectly the conditions of the retreat. I can’t even do that in small swaths because nothing in life is compartmentalized. I can’t cover everything else up while I write, brush it under the rug or shove it into the hall closet until I’m ready for it. Comparing myself to a version of me who only has to write, and then wondering why I can’t meet that vision, is a recipe for self-blame and throwing my hands up in frustration that I shouldn’t even bother writing because if I can’t do it according to the perfect image of it I have in my imagination, then I’m never going to be a successful writer.
The thing about being in community with others, is you see how many different ways there are to chase after a passion. Some find hidden moments on lunch breaks, some are weekend warriors plugging away furiously on Saturdays; some write in the early mornings before the house wakes up, some late at night after everyone is in bed; some write by hand, some dictate, some type; some finish a first draft in four months and some in four years; some have advanced degrees and some don’t finish high school.
The point is, there’s no one right way to do any of this—writing, or life. We all do it in ebbs and flows, in smooth fever dreams of creativity and clunky false starts, in darkness and in light and everywhere in between.
The point is, our conditions are always changing, and so we need to anchor our lives to our passions, not our passions to our lives.
More info on the retreat: https://www.norcalwritersretreat.com/
Yes, indeed! Difficult/easy choices. Sometimes I find I have to make a decision and let it ride.... AND, TIME WILL TELL....Also, my priorities my need scrunity as well.... And, do I really care that much about either choice? Maybe let it go and admit I was wrong and 😁😊it is time to change....
🤔