energy
[Originally posted on 10/22/2021 at birdbyrocket.com]
“The main thing you want is a way to set aside your longing and your anxious dreams for yourself and connect with something bigger. You need to find a more artful route to that sensation of human connection that doesn’t crowd your conscious mind with circling thoughts, and instead clears a path to your unconscious mind. You’ll know you’ve found it when you start to look forward to that feeling of slipping into a haze instead of grabbing more, more, more out of the day.”
—Heather Havrilesky (on her Ask Polly newsletter)
There are some problems and contradictions about energy. We’re in a moment where people are perpetually exhausted—for good reason. But even before the pandemic, energy seemed hard to come by. Saying “I’m tired” on social media is so ubiquitous that the words have been elevated to a kind of meme.
I’ve always had a lot of energy. Many people know me as a hard worker, a straight-A student, a dependable member of the team. I’m quick and efficient, highly organized, never late, and make very few mistakes.
Here’s my secret: I’m also incredibly lazy. My family and my partner (i.e., those who have actually lived with me) know this to be true. It’s a running joke—what has Mariah not done now? What has Mariah ignored or put off? I shirk responsibility at the drop of a hat. I blow off to-do list items to follow my impulses all the time. If I need to do laundry, but want to lay around reading, eight out of ten times I will not have clean clothes. My bed is one of my favorite places in the world. It literally takes me months to schedule routine doctors’ appointments, and I never manage to go consistently every year. On the weekend, I’m more likely to spend a whole day with my own pursuits than meet any other practical obligation.
I feel like I should say (why do I feel the need to say it?) that I’m not slovenly. I maintain a middle line between mess and tidiness, I do what must be done. But not much more. My life is lived-in.
When properly balanced, I think the ability to be lazy has benefited me as a writer and as a person. I say “balanced” because the tension between obligations and creative impulses can also create a kind of paralysis. Maybe this is familiar to you: wanting to write, but feeling guilty about the laundry, not knowing what to write anyway, but dreading the laundry…. and then nothing at all happens. You have dirty clothes and no writing. I’ve also come around (over time) to the pleasures possible in “chores,” the way cleaning and cooking can make you more present, more grateful, less anxious. It’s not good to see all the daily ins and outs of practical living as a constant, gigantic burden.
But… I’m still willing to skip them if something more fun comes along.
I don’t think anyone should be haunted by guilt for feeling too exhausted to pursue their “passion projects.” No one can do it all. But I do think it would be interesting if people tried to redistribute that energy sometimes—assuming they have the flexibility to do so. (Caregivers and mothers usually can’t opt out, which is another conversation.) Being lazy about your responsibilities in favor of some other activity should be practiced at least once a month, in my opinion. Especially if you want to play around with an art form.
Our “making-things” impulses are much more important than the standard, acceptable way of dividing up time suggests. There are two big assumptions I notice:
If it’s not your side hustle (an eventual way of making money), then there’s no reason to do it. Quite the contrary: the simple experience of shirking your responsibilities is a good enough reason to try an art form. Letting go of responsibility is a great feeling!
Media consumption activities like video games, television, and social media are inherently more “relaxing” than other ways of spending time. I would like to argue against this. I feel more settled and calm when I work on my writing, not less; binge-watching or endless scrolling makes me lethargic and irritated.
There are bigger implications here. I think we need to create some kind of energy for ourselves—rather than wait to feel energized until, somehow, the demands of capitalism are loosened up. We need to rebalance where the energy goes in order to shift our bodies out of the daily grind, and our minds out of the daily doomscroll. There is no external influence that will encourage this. It has to come from each person, on their terms.
Most of us will have to balance demanding day jobs with any practice that’s important to us. The economic necessity of a full-time job is only getting more pronounced. At one time, an aspiring artist or writer might have taken a low-commitment part-time job in order to focus on their art. But the constant pressure of finding enough money to exist turns the tables on that commitment. When there isn’t enough money (which if you’re working part-time, there almost never is), money is the number-one commitment. Not to mention the fact that the daily slog of working those jobs, as reported by the people I know who have worked them, is utterly life-draining. I stand by the assertion that my day job, where I have a huge amount of responsibility, big deadlines, and competing priorities, is less stressful than working part-time at Walgreens.
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Hmm. Where to go next with this? I’m always walking a fine line between productivity and rest. Whenever I read the writing I’ve done on topics like this, I worry that I’ve come down too hard on the side of working a lot or pushing oneself. I’m trying to say the exact opposite. I think investing time in a practice is a way to create more energy, not just another way of spending it.
Issues around privilege and access are also essential to consider. I understand that my privileged position is part of what allows me to write, or think about this stuff in the first place. But things in the world aren’t good, and they might get worse. We can’t rely on electing the right person or passing the right law to make the environment more “favorable” to art before we prioritize it.
Maybe it’s because, ultimately, I think doing your work is part of what bridges the gap between “now” and “better.” Not because art will magically solve any problems, but because we’ll be happier on the way to wherever we’re going.