Here is where I will allow my voice to rise above a whisper: My first blog entry after a 5-year hiatus. Even as I write this, I feel my analytical brain prematurely trying to finish the sentence of my slower creative right brain. Hovering over my shoulder, the persnickity editor chides my experimental approach towards writing. Why bother if I can't do it right? Ms. Editor's guiding belief is that it is much more upright to maximize efficiency, minimize waste (time, energy, ego), and ultimately make no mistakes because the grief of regret is such an interruption.
The left side of my brain is always searching for the "hypotaneuse" of the triangle---the quickest, cleanest route to where I think I want to go. Trouble is, I get there with my hands clean, but spirit restless because my soul won't be nourished by this mechanical approach to life.
There is a siren-like appeal (a very buttoned-up siren, indeed) in doing things "efficiently" because I have a belief that the worthwhile moments in life will only be enjoyable if they are free from the anxiety of that which has been left undone. I often believe the lie that I am not allowed to rest until I have arranged, cleaned, straightened my home (read: myself) out and everything is in neat bins with labels and my house is an example o impeccable interior decorating. Who wants to see mismatched dishes, afterall? (Especially the one with the tacky ivy leaf pattern).
When life with two kids is frustrating and daily life looks anything but "clean and efficient," it is easy to think something is wrong with me, and therefore I need to change who I am in order to do things "better." Yet the underbelly of efficiency can be a goal to avoid pain and predicament, mess and mayhem. This is my default mode when I approach road trips (and really, life in
general). Trouble is, it doesn't feel natural to me. It feels like
something I have collected along the way, but it doesn't quite belong to
me. I think it's time to unload it.
Of course no one really desires chaos for its own sake, but chaos can be a crucible in which character is shaped and dependence on the Lord is heightened (It would be so much more efficient if I could do everything myself and
not need Him. I think He rigged this system of motherhood and family
life to highlight that truth). I also am struck by the fact that as mature people, we are called to live in the present reality, not what "could be." Accepting the reality of a situation, flaws and all, rather than fighting against it.
That's how we tried to approach our family trip home from the Finger Lakes region of New York. We knew we would be close to insanity if we chose to drive the hypothetical "9" hour trip with two kids two and under. Projecting a 12-hour trip ahead--with nursing pit stops, diaper/tire blowouts, potty breaks for me due to the caffeine consumption necessary for coping, and time for Joel to snap some photos--it would be emotional suicide to try to attempt this drive in one day.
So we did something different. We didn't sweat the fact that our first "delay" occurred before we actually left the driveway. Yep, the first diaper blowout of the day--of course, after everyone was already buckled in. But our optimistic spirit would not flag. We were going to take the slow approach to our trip, therefore we did not chide ourselves for making our first pit stop at Dunkin' Donuts for a coffee refueling a mere 15 minutes after we left the driveway.
This inefficient approach to travel meant I had lots of time to reflect as we were loping down the road in our borrowed Plymouth Voyager. I actually think the circuitous journey home increased my desire to let my thoughts wander on the page, as opposed to shutting them down before I even start.
Writing is a profound risk. I haven't written for years because I want something perfect, so I shut everything down. I don't want the inconvenient struggle of writer's block, rewrites, and rejection. Yet as Edith Shaeffer (1971) alludes to in The Hidden Art of Homemaking, the act of writing does not have to be published professionally in order to make it worthwhile. In fact, it could spur someone else on towards creativity. " One active artist gives courage and incentive, and germinates ideas in others for producing more art. Hence a very poor, humble or unknown artist might easily provide the spark which kindles the fire of a great artist. But however good and great, his art is never perfect" (Schaeffer, 14).
Creativity requires slowness and time for germination and experimentation, and efficiency (getting from point A to point B the quickest pain -free route)is often at odds with the creative life.
