Everything seems to want something from me
Ever wake up - and before you’ve even begun your day- you're already overwhelmed when you remember all the unfinished things there are to do?
And that in that moment, you’re sure you don’t have it in you to deal with them.
This past month has been a wild ride. I have a deadline for submitting artwork to an upcoming show. Whatever age-related aches and pains and interrupted sleep I have all showed up, usually at critical moments.
I’ve worked through power outages, using camping lanterns on my studio table, tearfully cleaned up after my cat killed baby rabbits, and put almost everything on hold until I get these paintings finished.
And then there are all the other unfinished things which I assumed all require my immediate attention.
You'd think I need more discipline or a better plan. But really, I’m coming to realize that the feeling of overwhelm isn’t a result of having too much to do. It’s coming from the belief that I need to take care of all of it at the same time.
So after seeking some wise counsel (some coming from another source, and some coming from me), I’m realizing that a much better approach is asking this:
“What’s asking for my attention right now?”
Sitting with that question returns me to the present moment, the only place where action can begin.
Otherwise, all the other worrying is trying to carry the future. And that prevents me from responding now in the best way possible.
That question is very similar to the one I ask when I’m making art: what wants to show up? And if I ask that question in relation to how I meet this day, the answer isn’t about productivity but clarity. Not trying to solve a million problems or get a million projects done.
But instead, I can ask: "in this moment, what does my body need in order to move forward"? What do my heart - and soul - need in order to be at peace and respond to what’s in front of me?
I’m recognizing how making art teaches me something similar. I don’t force it. I let the work reveal itself. So instead of trying to control it, I let what wants to emerge reveal itself.
There’s another element worth acknowledging. It’s self-compassion. Compassion isn't reserved for grief or loss. It can also be for the part of us that sincerely believes everything depends on us.
What I noticed in my initial response to this day is fear - fear of missing out, fear of not finishing, fear of not taking care of what needs attention.
If I sit with that fear, I can respond by simply noticing and accepting it rather than trying to make it go away. And that simple shift can loosen fear’s grip enough for the next thing that wants to show up to kindly ask for my attention.
And that in that moment, you’re sure you don’t have it in you to deal with them.
This past month has been a wild ride. I have a deadline for submitting artwork to an upcoming show. Whatever age-related aches and pains and interrupted sleep I have all showed up, usually at critical moments.
I’ve worked through power outages, using camping lanterns on my studio table, tearfully cleaned up after my cat killed baby rabbits, and put almost everything on hold until I get these paintings finished.
And then there are all the other unfinished things which I assumed all require my immediate attention.
You'd think I need more discipline or a better plan. But really, I’m coming to realize that the feeling of overwhelm isn’t a result of having too much to do. It’s coming from the belief that I need to take care of all of it at the same time.
So after seeking some wise counsel (some coming from another source, and some coming from me), I’m realizing that a much better approach is asking this:
“What’s asking for my attention right now?”
Sitting with that question returns me to the present moment, the only place where action can begin.
Otherwise, all the other worrying is trying to carry the future. And that prevents me from responding now in the best way possible.
That question is very similar to the one I ask when I’m making art: what wants to show up? And if I ask that question in relation to how I meet this day, the answer isn’t about productivity but clarity. Not trying to solve a million problems or get a million projects done.
But instead, I can ask: "in this moment, what does my body need in order to move forward"? What do my heart - and soul - need in order to be at peace and respond to what’s in front of me?
I’m recognizing how making art teaches me something similar. I don’t force it. I let the work reveal itself. So instead of trying to control it, I let what wants to emerge reveal itself.
There’s another element worth acknowledging. It’s self-compassion. Compassion isn't reserved for grief or loss. It can also be for the part of us that sincerely believes everything depends on us.
What I noticed in my initial response to this day is fear - fear of missing out, fear of not finishing, fear of not taking care of what needs attention.
If I sit with that fear, I can respond by simply noticing and accepting it rather than trying to make it go away. And that simple shift can loosen fear’s grip enough for the next thing that wants to show up to kindly ask for my attention.