Composting is one of my favourite analogies.
It isn’t natural for the human species
to be go, go, go.
We weren’t designed for that.
Electricity brought us light at night,
(and all that came since).
We have been ticking to a new body clock,
which can get to be too much.
The pandemic has made us all catch up to this idea.
Lot’s of us took a huge exhale
at the lowering of social responsibilities
(ignoring the huge intakes of breaths
with the stress of living in the midst of a pandemic
obviously).
Media was getting Hygge on us.
Something we needed
years before it was thrust upon us.
Trying to bring a creative practise to my life
was like spending concentrated time in nature.
You see first hand seasonal changes.
You know what it means to your landscape
and directly to your day.
With the passing of a year, creatively
I would be struck by seasonal patterns.
Laziness after the completion of a project –
a couple of months mooching about
feeling lost, picky and distracted.
Then a start to something, still foggy.
Following this a sudden summer explosion of productivity.
Next a flattening, as the project would come to fruition.
A last minute freak out before bringing it to the world.
A euphoria of it being out in the world.
Bam –
back to lazy, mooching and pickiness.
After a couple of years, I grew
to have faith that the laziness would end.
This lessened the personal beat up
I would do on myself.
A couple of years on
I realized this laziness was not a
negative symptom of my practice.
This laziness was a necessity.
It gave rest – but after initial rest,
it gave fuel.
Deep fuel,
a processing,
an active working
that was essential –
for the next seasons of
start, explosion, freak out and euphoria.
All dependent
All interconnected to one another.
One not better than the other.
Each is equal.
Now I could change
the word lazy,
now I was composting.
It is true.
Ideas that lead to a start and explosion,
were formulated during those afternoon naps,
those slipper dragging mooches around the house,
those wonders of why I was looking at this thing and that thing.
None of it made sense.
But this isn’t the sense making time –
this is mooching,
this is trailing time.
This is the working through the fog,
the wisps of an idea.
This is before consciousness.
As I understand this process more.
I become more active in the process.
Not passively accepting.
I am mesmerized, fascinated by it.
Acknowledging what was happening,
the roller coaster of the whole creative process
stood more of a chance of evening out.
I detach from the meaning of the feeling,
I do the work I need to.
It is less laborious, less defining of me,
just another process.
As I write this I am not perfect.
I’m not in my studio doing the work.
I have been fixating on this recently.
As accepting as I was of the break
there is still that whisper:
nothings happening in that head of yours,
you’re being lazy..
you’re avoiding..
the voice is there.
I am coming to accept that it might always will be.
Yet writing to you.
Listening to your experiences,
has helped me to hear another voice too –
a “it’ll be ok Caz…
remember you’re composting,
when you’re ready to start you will.”
If the last year has been causing you fatigue.
If you have what you are calling your lazy.
Have a little search
a little wonder.
Could I have been composting all this time?
I am really sure you have.
You have had a lot to process…
to figure out…
new ways have become both a necessity
and at times a blessing.
What possibilities do you think your unconscious mind
has been feeding, warming, growing?
Wouldn’t it be great to start soon to see?
Always composting CX