I’m finding lately that some of the work inspiring me most is also an instrument of discouragement. I’m fed by artists whose work is inspiring but whose lives I can’t attain. They have adult children, tenure, a spouse with a stable income. Even some of the mother/writers I (occasionally) read write about the frustrations of split focus or the demands of dinner– but they still manage to accomplish a weekly blog post. I understand technology allows for the appearance of regularity, but even scheduling a post requires time that I often can’t find.
Several times in the last month I’ve considered acknowledging my cyber absences with an excuse note. It would have read something like this:
Gentle Reader, My sincere apologies for neglecting to post this week. Posting something profound or elegant is beyond my capacity at this time. The demands of my work and my children are keeping me from my art.
But something about that last line is a false philosophy that I’m no longer willing to sustain. Every time I think of my teaching or my children as “keeping me from my art,” I reinforce that my teaching and my parenting are not part of my art. That’s a dichotomy that I’m beginning to suspect is a remnant of patriarchal culture. Men have often been able to segment work, family and personal endeavors; women seldom so. Political feminism (and, at times, myself) has dealt with this differential by blaming men or society for denying women equal rights to this segmentation. Yes, I would like a room of my own. But at some point that’s just asking for access to the segmenting system. I think I want something more than that. I’d like for another way (a motherly way? a parental way? a holistic way? a Jesus way? a slow-thought way?) to have a valid and respected place– and not a second place.
I didn’t write an essay this week. Or a poem. Or even do a painting or take a long walk. In fact, I feel tired, spent and a little desperate. But I was generative. This week’s (day late) Create is probably as much therapy for me as it is a prompt for you. I’m going to live into respecting my whole life by posting a part of it here as “my art.” This week I made “a lively ocean.”
What was your art today? What would you post if you weren’t afraid someone would label you cute, shallow, naive, unsophisticated, unworldly or somehow less than ironic or cosmopolitan? What was your “lively ocean” this week? What would you post if you believed someone would respect it?
My Lively Ocean this week:
I spent two hours fishing with my beautiful kiddos and had so much fun that I didn’t have time to take any photos.
My lively ocean this week: I sat on my couch in my pajamas with my two children crowding to pile on top of my squishy mama-body, ignoring facebook, pinterest, and other intrusive media’s attempts to make me feel like I wasn’t enough.
My lively ocean this week:
I created a weekend experience for myself and my son. I now look forward with anticipation to living the experience with him and making wonderful memories. Time stretches when they are older. I cherish our moments together that come less frequently than yours do at this time of life.
Thanks for sharing these– they made my week richer too. (Hope it’s been a great weekend, Ann.)