Creative Rebellion Essays: Feeling off but moving forward
A meta-image of me writing this essay.
I’m writing this essay while feeling off. I’m not sure what it is – I woke up bone tired. I slept seven hours but feel like I’ve been up all night. Along with so many others (“Why Am I Having Weird Dreams Lately?” – NY Times), I’ve been having intense, vivid dreams. Aside from not working out as I used to pre-COVID 19, I’m doing all the right things: meditating, creatively writing, drawing, painting, doing podcasts, eating healthy, and while focusing my worktime efforts on my day job, I take breaks to get outside and get some vitamin D.
It’s an odd fatigue and I’m clearly not alone in this. It’s been attributed to Zoom exhaustion. It’s obviously tied into the ever-present stress of the pandemic. We know people who have contracted COVID-19. We’ve been sickened. My wife, daughter and I were terribly ill for four weeks last December, after returning from a trip to NYC and we suspect that we had the coronavirus at that time (“Travel from New York City Seeded Wave of U.S. Outbreaks” – NY Times). About two weeks into the malady, I drove my daughter and wife to the ER, where they were administered steroids, and given inhalers, to help them breathe again –– my wife’s throat was closing up, her respiratory system was compromised and she couldn’t take a breath without intense effort. We all had high fevers and my wife and daughter stayed in their respective beds for a week without seeing each other. I was the least sick (functioning with a temperature of 101 degrees or so) and made multiple trips to the pharmacy, buying every over-the-counter cough and cold medicines. Nothing helped. Once, when I was at the grocery store, a loaf of bread was pressed against my cheek and it took me a few moments to realize that I had fallen face-first into a rack of sourdough loaves. By early January, we were finally functioning but we felt the residual effects for weeks. When I started working out again and ran stairs for cardio, I nearly blacked out again as I wasn’t getting enough oxygen to my brain – clearly, my lungs were still weakened. Fortunately, we all made a full recovery. There was no mention of, let alone a test for, COVID-19 at the time so we can’t say for sure we had it until antibody testing becomes available but our symptoms lined up exactly with the descriptions we’ve seen for coronavirus.
We hear about how enforcing the stay-at-home policy designed to keep us healthy is considered by various groups as somehow infringing on our American liberties when the virus could give a crap about our rights. But I completely get it. The economy is in manic swings and layoffs are increasing (Airbnb laid off 25% of its workforce) and desperation is increasing. Our current political strife and discord are making things worse and as of this writing, the US alone has had over 1.2 million cases of the coronavirus and over 76,000 deaths.
I’m incredibly grateful for what I do have. I’m fortunate enough to have a great job and the best design team I’ve ever worked with. My family and I are healthy. What do I have to feel bad about? I’m not a front-line worker, exhausted from the constant onslaught of sicked patients and burdened by the lack of adequate PPE’s. I’ve not lost my job. I have food and shelter. California isn’t on fire. Things could be so much worse.
Nonetheless, today I’m feeling off. And I’m sure I’m not alone. Common feedback I get is “give yourself a break.” I do, on occasion. But this pandemic has also brought to the forefront how fragile just about everything is: the economic system, the climate (which has demonstrated how quickly it recovers, if it’s left alone for a few weeks), the political system and more than anything, our health. This pandemic is a memento mori of how tomorrow is not guaranteed.
One reaction is negative: anger, depression, despair.
Another reaction is constructive: radical acceptance of what is, centering oneself, moving forward.
So, in spite of the day’s “offness” I decided to accept its presence within me, meditate and go through my list of things to-do. All-day long it was awkward. And it continues to be strange. Perhaps I should just stop trying to be constructive but I prefer the cumbersome slough of at least actively, albeit slowly, doing my professional and personal work. I’ve found that doing less leads to a lower energy state of frustration, annoyance and anxiety. Doing something, accessing a state of flow, however fleetingly, is preferable. And as one moment of being in the present with the work passes, it’s followed by more, until the day has ended.
As I write this, it is now evening. I thought of “giving myself a break” and not writing this but I gently pushed through the resistance, not forcing the process, but allowing it to unfold as it wanted to, at its own pace. The important issue for me, was to feel the offness, acknowledge it, and keep moving – putting one foot in front of the other.
And now the essay is done. The day is nearly over. The memento mori of the current situation has been acknowledged and I decided to not let it bring me down. For now. For today.
John
What I’m watching:
Beastie Boys Story – this documentary by Spike Jonze follows the journey of three friends, who evolved from being almost a joke band when they launched LICENSED TO ILL in 1986 to a respected vanguard group that mixed and matched various musical genres ranging from rap to funk to jazz to rock, making a melange of sound that was truly their own. Unfortunately, the group’s visionary, Adam Yauch (aka MCA), passed in 2012 at the age of 47 from cancer, and with his death, so ended the Beastie Boys. Worth watching, even if you aren’t a fan of the Beastie Boys. In the end, this doc is about the power of creative friendships and the power of truly following your muse, wherever she may take you.
Twilight Zone – this amazing series developed and show-run by Rod Serling, beginning in 1959 and ending in 1964, remains timeless and relevant in these times. These were modern sci-fi parables that addressed issues of intolerance, censorship, racism, war, and the human condition. The brilliant Serling died all too young at 50 from a heart attack on the operating table (his three to four pack-a-day cigarette habit didn’t help) but his legacy lives on in hard-edged black and white, Kafka-esque 30 minute increments online. Check it out.
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