I've been stuck.
Like, really, seriously frozen. Paralyzed.
Can you tell by my absence?
And I couldn't figure out why I couldn't even move, creatively speaking.
I've had no desire to paint or make anything.
And I looked at my list of stuff and there was
702 have tos and no want tos.
702 have tos and no want tos.
My making {for me} time is after I put the boys to bed, around 8 or 9,
on nights that I don't fall asleep with them.
And the thought of have tos after a long day just made me tired.
more tired than I already am. soul tired.
And then I read this, and I think she might live in my head:
There's another kind of tired, though, that is easy to mix up with Body Tired: it's Soul Tired. And sleeping doesn't help it. Sleeping doesn't touch it with a stick.
Soul tired requires something different. And I think some of what it requires is more making. Generally, when I think about being Soul Tired, I'm living a life where I feel like I'm doing lots of something I should do, and not enough of what I'm made to do.
Ginger Hendrix, Time to Make
So I mustered up enough energy to finish painting the boys' closet curtain.
Geometric patterns. As I painted I felt my soul starting to come alive again.
I started to feel light and free and happy and... alive is the best way to describe it.
I grabbed my paints and squirting different colors on different paper plates.
I made all of these different color combinations.
And I thought, "Oh yeah. I remember this.
This is what it feels like to play.
This is what it feels like to do what I was made to do."
I forgot.
I forgot that play is not some luxury I get when my bathrooms are clean and all my laundry is folded.
Play is what I need, in order to be able to do the work I need to do.
In order to live and play High Ho Cherry and do a million dishes each day.
In order to be happy and content and have the energy to do the work, I need to play.
Ginger explains it better. That playing (she calls it making) is important in and of itself.
Completely independent of the end product, the play has inherent value
I started by declaring that making is important. I started saying things like, "Everybody thinks of our creative lives as the mashed potatoes, but it's the meat. It's central. It's important."
I didn't wait for the work to be over. I claimed it as necessary and real and part of what I needed to do to live how I wanted to live. I just required that my regular life included it.
Ginger Hendrix, Time to Make
I was saving my play time for the end, when the work was finished.
But it's always there. Waiting for me. Sucking the life out of me.
But when I turned my to-do list upside down and allowed myself to play first,
it gave me the life-giving, soul-feeding energy to do the work.
All these color combinations and patterns came welling up inside me.
I could feel myself come alive.
Now, tell your mountain of laundry to shush and go play.
Feed your soul. You will thank me. and her.
I promise.
more tired than I already am. soul tired.
And then I read this, and I think she might live in my head:
There's another kind of tired, though, that is easy to mix up with Body Tired: it's Soul Tired. And sleeping doesn't help it. Sleeping doesn't touch it with a stick.
Soul tired requires something different. And I think some of what it requires is more making. Generally, when I think about being Soul Tired, I'm living a life where I feel like I'm doing lots of something I should do, and not enough of what I'm made to do.
Ginger Hendrix, Time to Make
So I mustered up enough energy to finish painting the boys' closet curtain.
Geometric patterns. As I painted I felt my soul starting to come alive again.
I started to feel light and free and happy and... alive is the best way to describe it.
I grabbed my paints and squirting different colors on different paper plates.
I made all of these different color combinations.
And I thought, "Oh yeah. I remember this.
This is what it feels like to play.
This is what it feels like to do what I was made to do."
I forgot.
I forgot that play is not some luxury I get when my bathrooms are clean and all my laundry is folded.
Play is what I need, in order to be able to do the work I need to do.
In order to live and play High Ho Cherry and do a million dishes each day.
In order to be happy and content and have the energy to do the work, I need to play.
Ginger explains it better. That playing (she calls it making) is important in and of itself.
Completely independent of the end product, the play has inherent value
I started by declaring that making is important. I started saying things like, "Everybody thinks of our creative lives as the mashed potatoes, but it's the meat. It's central. It's important."
I didn't wait for the work to be over. I claimed it as necessary and real and part of what I needed to do to live how I wanted to live. I just required that my regular life included it.
Ginger Hendrix, Time to Make
I was saving my play time for the end, when the work was finished.
But it's always there. Waiting for me. Sucking the life out of me.
But when I turned my to-do list upside down and allowed myself to play first,
it gave me the life-giving, soul-feeding energy to do the work.
All these color combinations and patterns came welling up inside me.
I could feel myself come alive.
Now, tell your mountain of laundry to shush and go play.
Feed your soul. You will thank me. and her.
I promise.
