#67: february writer's note
fostering creative renewal; the rainy day treasure box
Good morning,
I can’t believe how quickly time is passing this year. Today I have February’s writer’s note for you, which a short thought on how I’m approaching my writing practice for the month ahead, based on lessons recently learned. January’s was about investing into my creative practice in a structured way. This month, I’m leaning in the very opposite direction because a season is about to change in my life.
The end of January marked a big deadline for a project I spent much of the last year on, including my sabbatical. It took exactly 9 months. The end of February will mark the end of another 9 month journey toward parenthood. These overlapping timelines were tough at times because incubating a project and incubating a baby are both very taxing processes.
All that said, I am so tired. Pregnancy takes so much from you! So, in my last month before postpartum leave I’m taking up the advice of a wise friend to use this time for creative renewal, rather than assigning myself any new deadlines. This might mean the newsletter is a little scattered in the coming months, but renewal feels more important than scheduling content for content’s sake. So let’s talk about what that looks like.
I love the sentiment in this piece because it’s too easy to judge yourself and your creative work based on versions of yourself that just aren’t who you are anymore. This has been a big challenge for me when my interests change over time. It can feel like I got good at something but then moved on to become interested in something I’m not good at yet. Can you relate?
The reality is, we aren’t machines. And just because your expertise (or brand) or last 15 years of work experience is in one field, doesn’t mean you have to do it forever. Just because I’ve spent the last 9 months knee-deep in one area of research, doesn’t mean I can’t take a break to wander freely into a new forest.
But finding the time to do so isn’t always easy. Thus, this month’s practice.
The challenge: nurturing creativity in tiredness
A couple of years ago, Krista Tippett, host of the On Being podcast, took a summer off in Berlin and I’ve always loved how she described what that creative time was used for. In her words:
One of the gifts of this summer was a deepened experience of a ritual I’ve come to think of as contemplative reading. I began each day with an over-large sketchbook on my lap, and a book open on top of it. I made a beginning on the science fiction opus of Octavia Butler following my early summer On Being conversation with adrienne maree brown. I picked up the books Mary Oliver published after my conversation with her and savored them a line and paragraph at a time. I devoured an important new work by the British technologist/artist James Bridle, called Ways of Being. This became for me a continuance of the theme of emergence, a deep dive into how we might pattern our thinking and organizing around the intelligence of vitality as revealed in the natural world.
Morning after morning, I read, and interspersed with reading, I wrote. By hand. I had to go slowly as my handwriting is very, very messy. The going slowly was good for me, and so was the distance from a screen. I kept thinking of — and experiencing — that wisdom of Naomi Shihab Nye, that when we write in a journaling mode we are getting in touch with the many selves inside our self. My child and adult, private and professional, pre- and post-pandemic selves were romping around with my very present 25-year-old-at-large in divided Berlin.
I was also inspired to write by hand after learning from Dr. Christine Runyan that when we write by hand, as distinct from typing, we are processing emotionally as well as mentally. And I have realized in recent years that in general, I think conversationally, learn conversationally. Making this further move of reading conversationally was exhilarating. Sometimes I was copying sentences and paragraphs that moved me, sparked something, or were simply beautiful (often true of the words of our friend Mary O.). These jottings would often lead into my own reflections, and surface all kinds of memories and stories.
I am describing this in such detail as it was so, so helpful to me, and I commend it to you: contemplative reading; conversational reading. A practice towards personal stretching and communal pondering (a gift of a phrase from Marilyn Nelson).
But as lovely as this type of reading/thinking sounds, I do not have the time for it in this new season of life. How can one engage in this kind of openness toward inspiration even amidst a busy day? How can we nurture curiosity in tiredness?
The practice: scatter-hoarding inspiration
In the last few weeks, I’ve been surprised by how many moms have told me about their wrought relationship with social media during maternity leave, specifically, how they’ve driven themselves crazy by mindlessly scrolling out of a desperate need for entertainment or respite from the relentless repetition of baby-care and late night feedings. Others have suggested stocking up on easy TV shows to watch.
I’m no stranger to binging when feeling incapacitated—I spent the entire first trimester trying to keep down bagels and watching Grey’s Anatomy, and I now instantly feel nauseated if the show even crosses my mind. I’ve also spent far longer than I’d like to admit in Tiktok holes over the past year, just to make the not-sleepy-but-no-energy days of pregnancy pass.
But I keep thinking about what a treasure trove of inspiration early motherhood can also be (evidenced by the volume of creative works people eventually publish about the experience).
So, heeding my peers’ warnings, I’ve decided to channel my inner pre-hibernation squirrel, and stash away food for the winter—in this case, stories, ideas, prompts, questions, books, albums and links that don’t add up to anything specific, that may or may not be related to work, but that I’ve come across and felt, “Oh! If I had the time to quietly spend with you...”
Squirrels often store their food in multiple caches across many different hiding places and then occasionally emerge to feed from each one during the winter. From this, I’m taking a note to spread my treasures across mediums—plenty of hands-free audio, maybe an illustrated book in print, post-its with questions I don’t want to forget, prompts to record reflections without having to sit down and write, names of people I’ve thought about but not had a spare second to text, as well as a few longer pieces to enjoy while nap-trapped, or over a specific coffee on a specific bench on the rare occasions I get a date outside with myself.
Who knows if I’ll get to explore very much, but I’ve definitely learned than on my most tired days, making decisions is what feels impossible. It’s also what sends me down the scrolling hole, which never, ever feels good afterwards. Why leave your inspiration or entertainment to what random people decided to post or publish that day?
In the same way that we’re stocking up on meals and snacks we already know we love, why not fill a box with treasures that provide easy access to creative renewal for the tiny pockets of time in which you find yourself free to scroll? I see it as the information equivalent of having to choose takeout vs. pulling something nourishing out of the freezer or fun out of the pantry (recent discovery: Trader Joe’s pop-tarts).
Inspiration can be enjoyed in tiny moments!
Send me something if you’d like :)
That said, if you’ve read, heard, watched, or thought about something that you think would be up my alley and I should put in my box, I’m so open to recommendations. This can be…
a question you’d love to talk about one day (maybe I’ll write you a late night sleep-deprived response and it will be the start to an excellent conversation)
an album you love that makes you feel creative
a picture book or artist’s work to browse
an academic paper that’s been turning over in your head
your own favorite blog post
a page from your journal
a favorite midnight snack
a journaling prompt
something to specifically listen to while walking
whatever is inspiring and impractical!
I may not reply right away, but I do love to keep in touch with readers here without necessarily having to send out emails every week and perhaps I’ll do a future issue unboxing it at the end of the season.
And if you are also feeling a little too tired or too busy to nurture your creative self this month, I suggest making your own little rainy day treasure box. Save things as you find them. Ask friends to add to your box. Spend five minutes putting your most existential questions on post-its. Put some watercolors on your nightstand. Whatever allows the slower parts of you to emerge in safety and wonder and yes, even exhaustion.
Happy Tuesday,
Jihii