Monsoon June
and the art of keeping one's head above water...
Do you ever have that ‘what was I thinking?’ feeling as you rush from one overdue task to another? Why do I always feel compelled to say ‘yes!’ The past ten days or so have been like that. I’ve barely been able to keep up with reading my favourite Substacks never mind keeping up with my regular writing and posting schedule.
I have been drawing something every day, even if that something is just an illustrated errands list.
Funnily enough, several of the newsletters I enjoy have also been talking about overflowing in-boxes, the challenge of how to slow down in the midst of an ever-busier world, how being busy has become a badge of honour, how taking a walk in the woods sans digital device is something we should all do more often.
Fact is, I have taken walks in the woods, cycled by the river (20 minutes near water does a world of good when it comes to soothing the soul), gone climbing, had coffee with dear friends, written in my journal, read more than I have for ages, and worked on various daily drawing challenges inspired by the wonderful
but it seems counter-productive to then feel pressured to sit down and write about calm-in-the-midst-of-chaos.
One of the books I read and loved this week (picked up because though I haven’t been writing much about the ongoing process of writing about my father’s life, nary a day goes by without me thinking about the project… percolation, it’s a thing…) was Dancing at the Pity Party: A Dead Mom Graphic Memoir, by Tyler Feder.
Tyler has done a terrific job of capturing the messy, non-linear, awful, funny, terrible complexity of grief and loss. It feels vaguely wrong to say that I thoroughly enjoyed a book about someone dealing with her mother’s death, but I couldn’t put it down. Even though the circumstances of our respective losses are very different, Feder has managed to capture something universal - timeless and contemporary in her description of her mother’s illness, passing, and the aftermath of her death.
Reading this graphic novel memoir definitely made me want to get back to work on my own… so, I suspect that over the weekend (which looks like it may afford me a little concentrated work time) I’ll dig out my notes/outline/sketchbook and tackle another section. Should that come to pass as I hope, you’ll be the first to see the progress.
As far as keeping my own head above water, here are a few things that seem to be central to my survival. First, sleep. Seems obvious, but too often in the past I’ve tried to skimp on sleep and that has never served me well. Should I come up short overnight, I’ve learned that investing in a complete sleep cycle (90-minute) nap is always more effective than pushing through and bolstering my flagging energy with too much coffee.
Getting outside and going for a walk, cycle, or quick climbing session works wonders to reboot and refocus my mind when the overwhelm kicks in.
Finally, a good belly laugh (though this can be tricky to orchestrate if there’s nobody else around) is excellent medicine and is guaranteed to produce a full-body reset when stress levels start rising.
Making stuff- whether writing, drawing, painting, sewing, bread-baking, whatevering is also a great way to settle myself down when things start to feel a bit much.
So… off I go to do the other thing that tends to rejuvenate me - have something tasty to eat!
How do you cope/rebalance/rejuvenate yourself when your plates start spinning too fast?
First off, I really love that drawing assignment you did for Wendy Mac. Wow. The final result is arresting.
And now to your question. My life is very very quiet by design. I’ve been on a quest since 2020--when my days were a wall-to-wall crush of interviews, writing, networking, caring for kids, a lover--to make it boringer and boringer, and after three years it finally feels like I can breathe again. I hike every day at PKOLS Mt Doug. I read. I work. I make supper. I watch no TV and I listen to no podcasts. I sleep. I read at least one entry in 365 Tao: Daily Meditations every day. I brush my teeth. I journal. I lift dumbbells. It is plain, and it is a neverending delight.
If life does start to click along faster in the coming months, I have created a phrase that, when I do periodically find myself rushing, is very useful to calm me back down: “Everything that needs to be done will get done. I have plenty of time.”
Your article resonates with me.
The most helpful thing I do when I’m overwhelmed is to make lists. I categorize them and check them off when I’m done. Somehow, seeing my tasks in print, in some kind of order, gives me a way through the chaos.