You may have noticed that I’m posting more regularly these days. I’m doing this because I have a tricky mind that tells me endlessly unuseful things about creating, like: “If you haven’t done it by now, there’s no point trying”, “it’s too late” and “it’ll take too long”.
I have been telling myself this since I was 17 when I first decided I was too old to be like Mozart (because he had already written nine symphonies etc).
Wherever these beliefs originated, I’ve learned it’s important to counterweight them with contradictory habits, so that their toxic influence does not rule my life any more than it has to. Hence my persistence in sending you this newsletter, every week.
So far this commitment has felt like pulling teeth - painful initially, then out with a sudden ‘pop’ followed by relief, even joy.
Whether this continues will depend on what my self decides to do. My self has its own logic - just as one’s friends, children, employees and lovers have their own motive force and agenda. Ultimately I can’t tell it how to behave, only listen and make suggestions. I’ve found it’s usually wise to align myself with how my self is likely to behave anyway, then pretend later it was my idea.
In short - I’m experimenting with the limits of my control and creativity in life, and I’m hopeful that I can create a habit.
But this week I am sick.
Sick!
The American in me flinches: “why not ‘unwell’? or ‘under the weather’?”
Answer: I’ve been ‘under the weather’ now for weeks. I’ve kept at it through thick and thin, delivering trainings, coaching clients, doing admin, driving the kids to school, clearing the kitchen after dinner. All the while thinking I’m not doing enough.
Meanwhile this cold keeps hanging onto me like a demonic koala bear. Hi! You up there! I’m still here!
A friend told me yesterday he was so ill last week he couldn’t get out of bed for three days. The first thing I thought was: he must be lying. Then: his children don’t live at home. Finally, what crossed my mind was admiration: if only I was that good at being ill.
Somehow I never internalised the message - as a child, I guess - to just stay in bed and get better all damn day. Instead, I heard various versions of: you’re not really ill, you’re ok, you look fine to me… etc.
The upshot is - I am really bad at being sick. To actually be ill is uncomfortable territory for me. As a result I live a half-life of superficial wellness floating over a more permanent, deeper reservoir of malaise (a bit like our world), while never quite recovering.
And so to bed!
In those moments when I do allow myself to stay put I realise how much inside me needs to rest. After a cosmic struggle which ends with me finally surrendering all my impulses to act / grab my phone / get up, I cross the River Styx into the underworld of myself.
Then, as if entering a kind of enforced meditation, my body starts breathing more deeply and the screen of my mind fills with images and sensations from the past as I lie, unable to read, think or will anything. I sink into my own foundations.
At its best this can be like a mildly hallucinogenic experience, an altered state that opens me up to other worlds and possibilities, to unexplored layers of my being. At worst, I get a bit of rest.
So - this week I am not wrapping up with a fun video or a neat takeaway, or a tidy message of hope or mindfulness. I’m not even going to bother trying to perfect that AI image I had in mind.
This week I am going to bed.
All best,
Laurence
ps, I am going there right now.
Finally, better! HNY comrade
Get well, comrade. Saw Lucy Fitz today and we were saluting your genius.