On Busyness and Stillness
Several weeks ago, I stared at screens non-stop for days straight. Friday arrived and my boyfriend came to pick me up because we had tickets to see the play Fat Ham at the Geffen. When he knocked at the door, I answered while looking at him in a daze and holding an ice pack over my head. “I can’t see out of my left eye,” I told him.
Quick Google searches led me to the conclusion that it was eye strain. It felt like I had sand caked over my cornea and whenever I tried to open my eyelids the image was nothing but a hazy blur. When I looked in the mirror my eye appeared bloodshot and it seemed as though there were extra veins that had sprouted like small red rivers in the sclera.
Fran ran to CVS to get me some eye wash and pain killers for the piercing headache I was also fighting off. Somehow we managed to make it to the play, but the effects of the eye strain persisted over the course of two days.
How did I let it get to that point? I asked myself that question despite knowing the answer.
“The glorification of busy will destroy us. Without space for healing, without time for reflection, without an opportunity to surrender, we risk a complete disconnect from the authentic self… It may feel counter-intuitive in a culture that is speed-addicted, but the slower we move, the faster we return home.” - Jeff Brown
Outside of work, I’ve often had a tendency to pack my days and nights with activities, tasks, Zoom meetings, commitments... There was a point earlier during the week where I looked at my calendar and afterwards all I wanted to do was lie down and stare at a wall. Every single hour had something blocked in. Every second it felt like I was switching gears. If I wasn’t seeing someone in person I was responding virtually to emails, texts, and notifications. Everything became action and reaction. Quick pivots, quick thoughts, clenched jaw. I felt trapped in a cage of my own making.
As I sat drinking coffee one morning I couldn’t help blaming myself. How did I let it get this far? How can a life like this ever be sustainable, much less enjoyable? I leaned back at the kitchen table and closed my eyes. Just beyond the open window the birds on a nearby tree chirped away, oblivious. When was the last time I even paid them any notice? When was the last time I truly felt free in my free time?
When it comes to busyness, the main culprit for me has always been a difficulty in saying ‘no’ coupled with an intense feeling of constantly owing others my time. That is, until I wear myself down and have to cancel plans due to health reasons. This results in a endless cycle of busyness and burnout.
There even came a point where it became difficult to discern if an activity was something I genuinely wanted to do, or if it was something I wanted to want to do. I was so tired and muddled that I could no longer hear my inner voice. I was just running from one thing to the next.
“It’s time to ask yourself the big questions: Who are you? And what do you want?” - Uncle Iroh
Then one recent Saturday, it was the first day in a long time that I had nothing at all in my calendar. No Zooms, no events, no tasks. I woke up at 11am and felt uncomfortable. I reached for my phone like an addict to a drug. Then I hesitated, and turned it off. I didn’t put on music or a podcast as I made breakfast in silence. I wrote my book for a few hours and read a couple chapters of Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential. My roommate invited me to a yoga class in the afternoon and I went with her. Afterwards we got smoothies and hung out on a bench under the sun. I remember feeling grateful that I didn’t have anywhere else to rush off to that day.
Recently I’ve been reflecting on two things that matter deeply to me as a writer: going with the flow and entering flow states. By going with the flow I mean remaining present and observant, simply seeing where the day takes me without over-planning. This can be a challenge in a city like Los Angeles where people tend to book themselves out far in advance; it becomes easy to fall into this pattern here. With flow states I mean giving myself the space and time to be mindful with whatever creative work is at hand.
When I am too busy, I am unable to do either of those things. The older I get, the more I recognize that stillness and silence are vital for focusing on deep creative work. This year I want to romanticize quiet moments, moments that slip by unphotographed, almost unnoticed. These are what I think of as Studio Ghibli-esque “Ma” moments:
“We have a word for that in Japanese, it's called Ma. Emptiness. It's there intentionally. The time in between my clapping is Ma. If you just have non-stop action with no breathing space at all, it's just busyness, But if you take a moment, then the tension building in the film can grow into a wider dimension. If you just have constant tension all the time you just get numb." - Hayao Miyazaki
Though Miyazaki was referring to stories here, I believe the same quote can be applied to life. Non-stop action is just busyness. “Ma,” or stillness (both physical and virtual), leads your brain to open to a wider dimension. I feel this especially when I am writing, reading, playing guitar, resting, or spending time in nature.
In recent weeks I’ve begun to hear my inner voice again. It’s quiet, a whisper. But it sounds like truth, reminding me of who I am and what I love. I’ve started saying ‘no’ to some things, in order to say ‘yes’ to nurturing deep relationships, my writing, and my inner life. Life is encompassed of these small yes and no decisions. Time is limited. Why rush it?
