None of this matters. Yay me.
My Journal
I enjoy collaborating, helping others, bouncing ideas, having access to others, learning from others. It’s a recurring self-examination about the balance of outflow vs inflow. Historically, I volunteer and support others way more than vice versa.
Right now, I am doing free consulting for a friend’s business, for a niece’s business, and also volunteering at a photo gallery. I also support 2 nonprofit organizations. The time varies, which keeps the question, did you do too much for others?, as a moving target. My consciousness just can’t rest on a solid answer. Especially when the pleasure I get from the activities weighs in. Yes, I enjoy this and it’s easy for me to do, and for now, I am creating distinct value for others.
Meanwhile, there is me. And my art. My writing. My rest. My reading. My own damn marketing. I say “damn marketing” because i have such a complicated relationship with marketing. But I don’t want to get distracted as it’s a small part of the discussion here right now.
How do I want to allocate my time?
Am I getting ‘juice’ from other people’s projects to avoid the fear of not being successful if I apply myself to my own projects? What is this strange energetic gulf between doing for others and doing for myself?
It is so easy to look at others’ businesses and see a clear path. And then to see results. For myself, the list is so long, the list of possibilities and things I want to do, it is so long. And I’m having a hard time getting started. I am doing lots of things around the periphery. I am definitely preparing the space and place to make art. The memoir is not happening, though I get pieces and parts from these daily writing exercise. Sometimes I remember to copy paste into Scrivener, sometimes I’m in a hurry and I skip it. I worry in the back of my mind about lost words.
I’ve written over 40,000 words since starting 750words.com. That could have been a book! But it isn’t. And really, it’s silly to think every word should be saved and used for big points and big profits.
It seems so appealing to my left brain self to ‘JUST make a calendar and divy it all up with pre-set time slots and voila! Problem solved.’
But that disavows the importance of the energy in me, my work, my process. It works for a week or so then I take a trip, or get depressed, or have visitors, or, or or.
What if I just cut off the world some more? What if I budgeted myself more precisely and more selfishly? What if what if what if, my personality type just loves that question.
But me, I, I really don’t like the openendedness right now, in this moment. That feels like kid energy, critic easing her way in gently, to say, “Just do the damn work, dammit!”
:-)
Sure. Yeah. Today I am booked up - conf call with niece for 90 minutes, then time to eat, then finish the sewing projects I have open and splayed across the living room table.
So, maybe tomorrow.
My to do list just gets longer and longer. On the other hand, I’ve got nothing to lose. I’ll keep at it tomorrow. Right now, I’ve done my writing practice. Yay me. I learned cool stuff in the photo gallery today. Yay me. I’ve done my research for niece phone call. Yay me. I’ve gotten to have some collaboration energy and I am having solitary energy. Yay me.
I’ve learned about some actors who went 10 years without working. Jeezus!
For now, chop wood and carry water, Rox. It’s cool. Yay me.
Oops.I need 125 more words to make my 750!
It is really hard to trust the process and break out of all the many forms of hierarchical thinking. To live each day, each hour, each BREATH as if this is the only now. As if I don’t need to know what this thing we call the future holds. At its root, on its face, in its core, this idea is the most radical one I am aware of. Some days are easier than others. Today, I have followed the flow, had some regrets about spending an hour. On Twitter and reading news instead of writing, drawing, or reading. Clearly, I am still clinging to a hierarchical notion that some activities are better, more worthy, more important, than others.
I call bullshit on that. (Haha, for like the thousandth time.) Well, at least I did remember again. Yay me.
774 Words














