This morning, I’ve been knitting the head of a small toy mouse. I’ve done a 45-minute workout, following a “Circuit” my trainer sent me electronically, and I’ve got a bowl of sourdough autolysing in the kitchen, waiting to be turned into boules of bread over the next day. And tonight, a 2.5-hour Italian class for which I still need a bit more preparation.
And while I was mixing up that sourdough, I was thinking ahead to this post, already almost completed yesterday evening, just needing finishing touches. Or so I’d thought until I’d come back to it this morning, all judge-y about the value of some activities and the questionable worth of others.
Something about all the time we supposedly have on our hands, so many of us, during whatever level of confinement Covid has us at depending on the numbers in our region. Time that can only be directed to certain types of activity (solo or with household members only; our home the only “safe” indoor space), the choice of activities further influenced by the moods that seem to rock us from happy engagement one morning to frustration that afternoon to boredom and depression the next morning and near-manic commitment a day later.
So that this morning, ready to edit a post that featured a page of my journal on which I’d glued a piece of paper I’d ripped from a magazine and torn into a questionable shape — and on which I’d then crudely painted a teacup and saucer in child-like bright primaries
before scribbling tea-related words over the surrounding open space. . . .
Oh dear, Oh dear, Oh dear!
But, you know, I’ve done this before, and especially these days it seemed a good idea to hold on a bit before pushing down hard on that Delete button. . .
Because the Me who’s tempted to Delete is a Me well trained to judge activities by their value in a certain kind of marketplace. To develop and explain this training, the judgements, the type of marketplace I mean would require several posts. The bottom line, though, is that I tend to denigrate my domestic skills even as I enjoy deploying them. I’m uncomfortable with activities that can seem like wasting time.
And I’ve tended to stick with interests or pursuits until I achieve a recognized level, not necessarily of excellence but definitely of competence. (an associateship diploma in Piano Performance; a PhD in Canadian Literature; a marathon run, post-60; Advanced-level language classes). But it’s definitely not lost on me that, attaining such levels across various activities, I quickly focus on how much better I could do if I really wanted to work hard.
Tearing pieces of paper out of magazines and then painting and scribbling like a child across those pages, deploying scissors and glue and different-coloured paints and markers. Writing words whose associations make goofy sense to me, at least, lettering in inconsistent styles. . . . Being a Persistent and Playful Beginner at something I don’t need to be “good at” — I’ve decided, makes perfect sense. I can only hope that my Retirement will be long enough to loosen some of the “internalized capitalism” someone’s recent Facebook post warned me about. . . I can spend my time as foolishly and as wastefully as I want to!
And in case you have time to spend, or waste, reading about a Retired Woman’s Foolish Play, here follows yesterday’s post, unapologetic and undeleted.
I’m feeling so much better this afternoon. I hadn’t recognized how much anxiety I was carrying about this morning’s dental appointment, but now that two small cavities have been filled, my shoulders have relinquished their defensive duties and left my ears to their own devices. My regular dentist has an underlying condition which is keeping him away from the office until vaccination, and having only briefly met his replacement last month, I wasn’t entirely confident about her. (More about me and my dental anxieties here). But the fillings went well, and the anaesthetic’s worn off enough, now, that I can enjoy a cup of tea. . . .
Yes. There we are at the teacups again, with another page from my Sketch Journal, and a bit more about a little project I’ve wandered into.
Last post, I shared a page from my Sketch Journal, a gouache sketch of a teacup and saucer my husband broke. . .
It was the first time I’d used this medium and, without any instruction, I found that freeing: the freedom to make all the mistakes. Using paper I “upcycled” from the recycling box also helped me get closer to a child’s approach, that freedom we bring to creative pursuits before we become so self-conscious about our making.
The second page (pictured above, and again, below, in the same orientation as in the journal) followed because an artist friend and I had recently chatted, on FaceTime, about a course in which she’d been instructed to draw an object 50 times, partly to let go of any “preciousness,” partly to push past preconceptions, partly to build craft. . . I’d been a bit lax about journal entries, and it struck me that such repetition might get me back into a more regular rhythm — Variations On a Theme. Although probably not 50 variations!
Paul had given me a few well-chosen magazines at Christmas (a vestige of an old Christmas-stocking tradition), and one of them (an Australian fashion magazine, Frankie) had some lively and lovely graphics on paper with an appealing texture. I started ripping away until I got the background I wanted (the dusky rose, the polka-dotted white, the light blue) and then sketched another wonky cup and saucer and started painting.
Ripping paper and playing with a new kind of paint in a limited primary palette — delightfully child-like, and once the paper was dry I added Tea Text, then glued it into my journal and, as you can see, used the surrounding space to add some details about the day’s activities.
I could tell you more — describe the moments when my Mean Inner Critic told me how ugly and inept and messy and ridiculous my work/play was. . . the moments when, shushing Her, I saw something that simply delighted me. The limitations I recognize in my craft (more hours; I need so many more hours, more skills, more. . . ). The joy of surrendering to process, finding that an hour has slipped away. . . The glimmerings of new ideas that present themselves once that surrender happens, ideas that would not have bestirred themselves otherwise. . . .
The latter, especially, I hope to tell you more about. You can begin to see those ideas in the text I’ve been adding. More to come.
And now, if you’ll excuse me, a little mouse is waiting for me to finish knitting its wee head. . .
While I’m knitting Sadie Souris and tending my sourdough, perhaps you can tell me what foolishness you’ve been up to lately. Do you ever struggle with the worth of what you do? Deem some activities worthwhile, others much less so? By which criteria? And if you’re Retired, are these assessments more complicated or more frequent or more indulgent or harsher than before? As I say in the title of this post, “You know, the little questions” . . .
xo,
f
Last night I rewatched the movie Eat Pray Love on Netflix. I was drawn to this movie by the promise of enjoying the Italian setting. When I heard one of the characters talk about “the sweetness of doing nothing” I thought that is a good reminder to slow down and not judge everyday with how much I had or had not accomplished.
Love your journaling and your willingness to just experiment.
slf
I think you are very creative, and I admire your willingness to be so open with your readers. You often touch on things I'm feeling, and your book reviews are always interesting. I'm over here, in Aus, listening and nodding, knitting, learning Italian. Ciao, bella.
For me it is neither "foolish" nor a "waste of time" if I am doing something I consciously choose, which may be nothing more than watching light shift in a room. Like slf above, I have respect for dolce far niente.
Usually what is worthy of my time involves either enjoying myself, learning, or making a contribution to others' lives. At 72, I am acutely conscious of what a friend calls "TR"- Time Remaining. It is now OK for me to abandon an activity given that I do not have decades and decades ahead of me.
"This morning, I've been knitting the head of a small toy mouse" is one of the most charming leads I've ever read.
Years ago, my brother, who is an excellent athlete, made comments that seemed to demean my level of athletic exercises. And so I stopped. Just stopped cold. It wasn't until years later that I realized that: a) all exercise is good and b) that I, a doctorate-holding, corporate-excelling perfectionist, do not need to exceed at everything. I need to do what makes me happy. It is hard to let go of the inner critic, whether we are the source or we give others the power to be the source.It is one of my goals to accomplish before I die – to learn to do that which makes me happy, regardless.
This line of conversation has long fascinated me but I've hesitated to comment because my answer is:
No, never.
I try to tread lightly upon the earth but beyond that…and even after 11 months on my own with my cat…I cannot say I have once tried to assign a value to the way I spend my (leisure) time. It's just not part of my…psyche? philosophy? Something.
I like reading about your thoughts on this and those of the commenters. It's a good way to learn and gives an appreciation of what others go through. I do feel like the devil's advocate but it is not the first time and will likely not be the last.
Onward 🙂
Amen, Georgia. Onward, yes, onward. Here’s to dolce far nient.
After some (laughing) thought, and because I think you have watched the Montalbano series, I will say I do not even question the time I have spent searching out Sicilain to Italian translations of the songs of Olivia Sellario, in which I then identify and translate to English the words I don't have Italian for…all in order to understand what the heck I am saying when I sing along with her 'by ear'…
Have to say Georgia/Jennie and I are of the same mind about this issue. Feeling even stronger about it after this pandemic year. Life is simply too short to let the critics (internal or external) 'win' because that usually means I lose, right? Why do that to myself? As I work my way through my eighth decade, I am less willing than ever to judge myself (or others) about the value of their days. I'm just glad to wake up to a new one…even the boring ones. Or the ones where I am about to lose my mind with virtual schooling a 6 year old GS (he isn't any happier with me some days), but hey, we get to do it again tomorrow. Am I scintillating company most days? Hell, no! Do I care? Same answer. But I'm here. One foot in front of the other…even if those steps don't get me too far these days. I can always dream about better ones to come.
Oh how we judge ourselves so harshly. Perfectionism and productivity are two big ones for me. Yet, now two weeks into retirement, I have accomplished virtually nothing – no clearing out, no writing, no sketching, little cooking, a few moments of sewing – all the things I wanted to do seem to hold little urgency. For now I'm okay with that. I've read a LOT, and today I gathered up the scattered threads of willpower and did a bunch of baking of Valentine treats to drop off at various doors around the city.
I always enjoy reading your thoughts and processes.
SLF: I haven't seen that yet–I did read the book and would love a virtual visit to Italy. Dolce far niente — can never have too many reminders of its importance!
Jules: Mille grazie! Isn't it fun, this exploration of a new language 😉
Duchesse: Yours is the right attitude. I'm getting there, but part of what I'm contemplating here is how interested others might be in reading about the foolish (or not 😉 ways I spend my time. And thank you for appreciating that sentence. I rather liked it myself. I'll make sure to share a photo of the little mouse eventually.
Maryellen: Yes! It's a goal I hope to reach someday as well. I'm there in theory, at least. . . I remember years ago telling a piano student who was convinced of the superior innate talent of her younger sister that the day would come when her sister's talent and skill might be irrelevant, that she might just want to play for herself, in the new community of friends who had never met La Petite Soeur. . .
Georgia: I'm equally fascinated and inspired by your lot 😉
I was much influenced (set for life, really) by having 11 younger siblings whose care and feeding occasionally exhausted by mother. Leisure time was always measured and contingent. My own motherhood didn't budge that much, although I never cleaned during naptime, always kept that free for whatever I wanted to do. And there are no clear boundaries between work and leisure in scholarship and teaching — always work that could be done, and some of it even feels like play. . . But I think I'm getting the hang of this retirement thing and ripping paper plays a role. I'll get there 😉
And oh, I miss Montalbano now. . . that series was last summer's big commitment here. . . I've just taken a peek at some of the lyrics for Sellario's songs and will now head to Spotify to listen again, nostalgically. . .
Mary: Good for you! Interesting the different effects that the pandemic has, and also our intensified awareness of life's brevity. Sometimes I can be where you are, but I'm also more aware of sand running out and wanting to make the most of whatever time I have left. Which means, I guess, defining "most" — which sometimes, for me, means judging. . . But working on doing less of that.
It took a Japanese student of mine to make me ponder about my conceptions of time as a commodity which ought not to be squandered. Even stranger was embracing the thought that my notions of productivity, competence, and perfectionism, along the desire to “get the most out life”, could actually be impediments instead of assets. More and more I suspect that my last moments on earth won’t be spent busily tallying up all the loaves I’ve baked, concerts I’ve attended, or books I’ve read. Maybe compulsiveness to accomplish things isn’t the only way to lead a “worthy” life and, just maybe, it’s time to think of different approach to judge the “worthiness” of our lives?
When I think of my parents and grandparents, it’s the intangible things like their courage, inventiveness, and resilience which I treasure, not their tangible “accomplishments” in the world they inhabited. Who knows, maybe those bits of ripped paper in your journal could well end up meaning more to your grandchild than the diplomas on your wall.
Thank you for being so forthright. Those of us who are hard on ourselves sometimes get the message that we just need to "stop". Easier said than done. I think some of it is we know we can be better or do better and we're always shooting for that mark and sometimes feeling we have missed it. Since we're always trying to improve, is it such a bad thing? Maybe it's a case of a strength (trying to do better, be better) is also a weakness, as is so often the case.
That was a very frank post and many points resonated with me. I would say that for about a year after I retired I felt that I needed to find another job and not just any old job. It took a lot of rejections before I realised that perhaps this would not happen to a woman of my age; and now I am very glad. My life was taking another direction which I needed to follow. Like other commenters I have arrived at the comfortable conclusion that if it makes me content, holds my attention and gives me a sense of validity, it is something worth doing and I no longer even consider measuring myself against outside expectations. And actually, there aren't any, this whole pandemic has turned that on its head. I do what I do, I read what I read, I think what I think and it is all helping me get through this. Here's another thing: I can also stop doing things if I want to. A few years ago I set myself challenges – lose that weight, do that running, learn to make bread, make yogurt, make cheese, make jewellery, write this, write that…a rather frantic list. All ticked. Some continued, some not. Some not as great as I thought, some better. Actually I have relished it all because it all now has equal worth. To me.
Dear Francis, It is already a long time that I follow you, but never before commented. I admire your capability to express and feel you inner self. In my long life as a physics research and professorship I have felt what you describe today. Always pushing the limits, my limits and I have become tired of that. Hope that when retired, if ever, can cut that pressure, and enjoy simple daily life activities and feel satisfy by doing them.
Your post resonates with me-I've always strived for perfection in all aspects of my life,I was working a lot,my specialization was hard work,there was family,house,cooking (we all know how it is)…. there was no time even for a weekly coffee with friends….but,now I agree with Georgia as well
It is ok not to be ok,to be sometimes lazy,to see things I do as a joy,not a goal,to approve of myself as I am……it is a learning process,but I like it more and more.
Dottoressa
Lorrie: I found so many stages during that first year of retirement: ebullience, relief, melancholy, deep fatigue, joyful puttering, surges of energy and happy planning. And then somehow within months deciding to make a huge move/lifestyle change. I can't imagine what that would have been like with our current restricted conditions and I have absolutely no counsel to offer except to be gentle with yourself. Indulge. . . . you've earned that! (and of course no worries that you have enough interests to fill your time should you feel at loose ends)
Lynn: It's interesting, isn't it, the way we learn what does and doesn't count. And for whom. . . and who or what can shift that perspective for us a bit as we go through life. . . like your Japanese student. In fact, much of this we know at some level (intellectually, for me) which is why it resonates so powerfully when we hear it from someone else. . . at least that's my impression. . .
Jeannine: You get it, don't you?! So many things I'm glad I did . . . and only did because I pushed against the part of me who didn't want to. . . It's about finding a balance always, isn't it? and the discernment and permission to know when to push through and went to relax. . .
Annie: You seem to be in a very enviable position right now and to have a good balance of interesting activities and an ability to sit still and watch the world. A good retirement, looks like from here.
Cristina: Thanks for commenting — I'm pleased to know you've been reading for some time.
It's not always easy, is it? So many possibilities in this one lifetime and some careers demand a level of commitment that doesn't easily allow for work-life balance. I hope you'll find a more sustainable pace in retirement (and perhaps find ways to practice that sustainability ahead of that 😉
Dottoressa: Exactly! It's a learning process, and I think we do get better and better at it. You had to have been very driven to do what you did and that drive was a good thing in many ways (as was mine, I believe). But for every season. . . . 😉 Now we want time to sit by the sea with our books (or go to Zagreb for špica with friends)
I have always experienced your relationship with your MANY achievements and masteries to be quite original and unique and Frances. Maybe because I too judge myself on excellence, so I relate to the emotional state you describe, but I judge myself on results rather than on mastery, if that makes sense. The similarity between you and me juxtaposed with that difference convinces me we must both have invented our own structures. That they don't have too much objective reality, in other words. And yet they are so real in feeling. How to set ourselves free? I hasten, only as much as we deeply want to be freed, of course.
I have joined a weekly meditation group. The leader often starts off the session by saying, as a way for us to get centered, "Now turn your kind attention to yourself." I am trying to nurture that kind inner eye. I send love, from my kind inner eye, to your own. <3
Lisa: I'm not sure that results don't factor as much as mastery for me; it's just that part of me is prone to finding (and comparing with) better results 😉 But at least I know this intellectually, consciously, even if my unconscious stirs up the feeling. . . And I talk back to the feelings. . . And yes, meditation! Does your weekly group meet on Zoom? I don't know that I can bear anymore online, but I can imagine what a group would bring to the practice. I have some guided meditations I listen to and some I do on my own . . . I like the "Loving Kindness" Metta Meditation very much. . .
As so often is the case, I seem to come too late to this table, and then I beat myself up over that, over being absent and disconnected….and…and…and.
You write so beautifully about your inner voice and your struggles and although it seems you feel this is sometimes something to struggle with, your struggles, at least as you express them yield something beautiful and kind even, although I can see how you might not feel it this same way.
To me, it seems you accomplish so much, have accomplished so much and yet you have also maintained this profound creativity. Yes, that is what I see. Not childish play but profound creativity.
But it is also the nature of the beast to feel our own creative efforts are never enough, and the burden put on us in this modern world to determine success in a very narrow way, focused on things and achievement in what is really a rather narrow frame of worldly definitions. I sometimes think that in all of humanity's success, and the ease we have created for ourselves — we are not running barefoot in the fields hunting down our dinner, after all — we have also taken something away from ourselves. We seem in danger of losing the ability to find meaning and happiness in the simplest of things: of sitting chewing on a piece of grass, watching the light, drawing in bright primary colors, just hanging with others without doing nothing profound. You, you always remind me of the importance of these things, and my own struggles with feeling worthless unless I conform to someone else's idea of worth.
Of course I was brought up that way. Be we are all shaped by so much, by families, by culture, by the air and food we take in for nourishment, by love, and for far too many, by lack of it. And as women this is even more true. It seems I have just learned that all of this striving and achievement, at least in my case, was just a big circle that went nowhere, except perhaps more pressure for striving and achievement. I hope to find smaller circles, that give me more personal, and perhaps even frivolous, satisfaction. I am sure I will struggle, and you will continue to as well. But I see a strong woman who knows herself and is willing to face all of this, and admit to all of this, without lying to herself (at least not all the time, we are only human after all). Be kind; most of all to yourself. It is a journey and we are all with you.