When I lived in my house in South LA, some aspect of the ecosystem of the property always seemed to pull at my attention. The apples needed picking, which involved wrangling an extended apple picker treacherously from the porch railing, determined to get at that top apple gleaming red in the sun. Then I would notice the front bushes were unsightly, and I would find myself hours later with a big pile of cut pieces and a very mangled row of front foliage. The guavas would fall from the tree and embed into the soil and some days I would get down on my hands and knees and dig at them which was an enormous waste of time but very meditative. I spent many a day in communion with the land and its bounty at that house. We were in Covid, and it was a saving grace to my sanity.
It was also a distraction. While it gave me something to write about, I also found the endless possibilities of what you could do to improve your house and the land was a stop gap to my writing. I would say to myself “No more house stuff” and then suddenly I was renovating a garage (it was like a blind fog came over me and when I woke up I was with Jose the contractor writing checks…) I paved a sidewalk (not on my own, I’m not that nuts!) because the crack seemed to grow as I stared at it, and I watched children and old people trip. I put in a sump pump when I learned the back of the house “ponded” in the rain. For years that was a bad investment until the last couple weeks and boy did that machine work for its $3500. I was consumed with the education of home ownership while simultaneously terrified by what I didn’t know. Were the termites eating the wood pillons in the crawl space under the house? Can the birds make nests in the AC coils in the attic? Will the towering palm tree snap in half one day and land on the roof? I felt continuously enthralled by my home ownership but also distracted by it.
Since I moved into a condo, and I rented my house, I have distance from it emotionally and logistically. Sure, I may need to send over an exterminator or a plumber, but ultimately at a condo, I have little to know involvement with the grounds. This transition opened up the time to write and also to be uncomfortable with how much time I have to write. I was reunited again with how much I love to write, and want to scribble and scribe all day every day. I would get on a roll and forget I have to feed my kids or get dressed for a social appearance. I had nothing to build or create in my condo except for fairy lights on the porch and some drawer liners.
We can forget to be creative in our craft when we are in situations that albeit seem like a fun challenge, are distractions. We can always be busy hacking, sorting, weeding and arranging that we stop painting or singing or writing. Our artistry grows to be antithetical to the responsibility of our adulthood and no longer viable career paths. Suddenly songwriting or painting in a consuming way appears flighty. Why write when you can clean the chimney grate? Why sculpt when the deck needs to be built? We are naturally purveyors of the land, and while we barely have experiences with the land in our urban sprawl, we try by doing our DIY projects. We feel we are getting our hands dirty. I know every time I wrestled a palm frond to the ground and cut it in half with my gloves and boots on, I felt like I was on the frontier. I didn’t feel like an artist but rather a settler.
So when I left that house, I did so for a variety of reasons, but when I landed, I knew the truth. It was time to write again. And I have been with this column, three times a week, and posting on Facebook and writing writing writing. Somedays I can’t believe how much I am capable of writing but when we have an artistry or a craft and we give it room to be fed, it has a voracious appetite to be seen and tended. Sometimes writing makes me tired, and other times it makes me sad. Occasionally it makes me feel blasé but it never makes me bored.
What energy do you put into washing your car on Saturday that you can channel into your art? What would it feel like to just have a dirty car (like mine) but you created something? Give it a try and let me know what happens!
Self-Care Hack:
Who here has gone under the needle? I don’t mean heroin for Christ sakes, I mean acupuncture; an age-old practice. People have been telling me to do acupuncture for years. In fact it got annoying like when I would complain about an ailment to my grandfather and every solution would be “Did you poop?” I finally bit the bullet and did it. I had needles placed all over, and cupping which left big red blisters on my back and butt (which means poor circulation by the way so ugh…) and I am taking these Chinese herbs that I just trust are for what I need because its all in another language. I am kind of hooked because it can’t be doing anything bad. Acupuncture feels like a notch above when I do a tumeric shot. And since I sit a lot, and my hip hurts and I feel moody, I’m kind of out of options besides just talking to myself a lot and drinking too much black tea from Starbucks. So this is my self care for the week aside from making these incredibly delicious paleo banana muffins that I am happy to share the recipe for to anyone who asks me but I won't post it here because I refuse to become that column that gives recipes. Sorry.
The Distractions of Home Improvement ...