I don’t know about you, but I’m terrible at letting myself relax and enjoy some downtime after a period of hard work. It’s especially frustrating because I often motivate myself to get things done by promising myself that there will be some time for rest at the end of the finish line. But, by the time I get there, even if I’m huffing and puffing from the sprint or the marathon or whatever the period of work I had to partake in was, I’m already looking at the next race. Even though my mental muscles are screaming, I want to push them to keep going. Because to catch my breath feels like laziness. It feels like giving up. Don’t even mention patting myself on the back for getting the work done either. I’m terrible at that too.
For the past two months I’ve been applying to various grants in the hopes of getting a budget together for my first feature film. And those two months were filled with pretty intense work, not to mention a lot of learning and research along the way. Lots of writing, rewriting, meeting with people to bring them on board but also to learn from their experience. Lots of stress and planning and overthinking. But, on the tough days, what got the work done was knowing that there would be some time to rest and relax afterwards.
But now that I’m here, I have no idea how to do it. Or what to do.
I know. It’s a fantastic problem to have. This isn’t lost on me. In fact, I think that’s part of the problem. I feel guilty for the time I have available to me, that I can do anything I want with it. Christ, I feel guilty for even having the time to think about how lucky I am, the ‘woe is me’ of it all. The world is burning, and look at Keith over there reading Haruki Murakami’s 1Q84 for the second time - and right after he finished it for the first time, no less! (Subtle brag.)
But there’s always something to do, isn’t there? There’s always something that needs to get done. Not just at work, but at home, too. And then there’s some asshole on Instagram telling us how they did it all and still have time to meditate or shear their flock of sheep and use the organic wool to start a business of artisanal, handcrafted, limited batch sweaters. Whoever they are, I don’t like them, but I wish them the best. Maybe they’re searching for the same kind of guilt-free rest I am, too, and they spend a sizeable portion of their day crying into the sweaters they knit with their calloused fingers. Who knows?
I’ve read somewhere that creatives need time to do nothing. I really want to believe that. It’s like believing in the afterlife, or something, as if there’s some place or space beyond this moment where we can finally relax. But some days it feels too good to be true. Like, you’re telling me I might get to see my childhood dog and also bump into John Lennon when I die? Assuming they’ve both gone to some kind of heaven. (Is it a sin if a dog pees on the carpet?)
Silly questions aside, I realize the work to be done here (God damnit, more work?) is going internal instead of scrambling for the external. What I’m starting to figure out is that I need is to call the impulses to do more into question. I need to gauge where these voices and thoughts are coming from, where they came from, who and what gave birth to them and why they’re still kicking around in my skull. They got me this far, which is great and I’m thankful, but they’ve also gotten me to a point where they’re doing more harm than good. I already know I work hard, that I’ll do whatever needs doing, and yet, somehow, these voices still tell me I’m not doing enough.
I also realize I don’t want to lose my mind to achieve my dreams. Does that make me weak? Unworthy of achieving them? Surely I can be a writer and filmmaker that creates things he’s proud of while also being proud of my capacity to live a bit of life in between, to enjoy it along the way. Otherwise, what’s the point? I’d love to leave something behind, stories and films that resonate, but if it means I have to suffer every step of the way, I’m not sure it’s worth it. I’m sure there are plenty of people who would disagree, but I’ve worked for some of them and they’re miserable, terrible people.
I’ve also heard that art imitates life. It’s one of those phrases we take at face value, deceptive in its simplicity. But there’s gotta be some truth in it if it’s been kicking around all this time, right? We have to live to create. We have to experience love and loss, fun and boredom, calm and terror, to create things that connect, that can hopefully resonate and help others find meaning or offer a brief respite from all the craziness. Even better, outside of creating and creativity, the more we live and hurt, perhaps the more we can empathize with each other. Maybe that’s why the world has been feeling so cold and distant at times, because we’ve all be made to believe we have to keep our nose to the grindstone rather than look up and realize we’re not the only ones who are scared and suffering.
I’m starting to discover I’m getting better at telling stories not just because I’ve been telling them for awhile now, but also because I’ve lived a bit of life, too, and all the ups and downs that’ve come with it. I can’t say this was a conscious decision, but now that I’m aware of it, I hope I can get better at making the decision consciously.
So, what’s the harm in rest? Maybe I’ll rest just a little too much, or for a little too long. Who gives a shit? I’ll learn not to do it that way again. I’ll figure out how much or how little I need, that perhaps I need it in blips and spurts instead of in one big chunk. Or maybe vice versa. Or god forbid, maybe there’s nothing absolute in that either. It could all be case by case. It probably is. Each project comes with different levels of work and demands different things. Ultimately that’s why I’ve chosen this work, or why I was compelled to partake in it. I get existential when things are predictable, when every day is the same.
Anyway, I feel like this has all been a rant that’s raised a lot of questions without giving many answers. But I guess that’s the point. As I collect myself after a crazy two months of applying to grants, I don’t need to have the answers. I just have to allow myself to explore what works for me, just as you will have to explore what works for you. There are plenty of worse problems to have.
Some new ideas are coming to me now, as well as a natural impulse to explore and develop them, so I’m going to give myself to that feeling, because it feels true - not because I feel like I have to do it. I’ll do what I can to trust this feeling, which means I’ll have to do what I can to trust the opposite impulse, to sit back and watch a movie or play a video game, to wander through the city, to let a free day take me wherever the wind blows.
We’ve only got so much time to feel the breeze, after all. Might as well enjoy it.
Best,
Keith