I’ve been drawing the Temperance card in practically all of my morning Tarot check-ins.
Oh, sure, I’ve been a big believer in moderation being for monks, and sometimes you have to have too much to know where enough really is and all that rot – and it hasn’t really served me all that well, to be blunt. Life is amazing, and I’ve had my share of inebriated and out-of-control moments, but these days . . . Well. let’s just say I don’t have Keith Richards’ constitution. Maybe I have mentioned that before.
In recent years, I’ve been eating cleaner and better, and don’t even drink wine anymore. Once in a great while I will seek some (ahem) Natural Assistance to blow the doors of perception off their hinges when I really need answers and can’t find them anyplace else. But that’s rare. Mostly, I am as dull as a chartered accountant.
But when creativity hits, that thing other people call self-control is a river in Egypt to me.
I think the reason I don’t practice guitar as much as I should is because I’ll sit down to work on something for twenty minutes and somehow three hours will have gone by, my fingers will be day-glo red and flaming hot, there will be a cramp in my right shoulder and I will have lost feeling in both legs. When the mood comes upon me to sew or knit or write a novel, I will quite literally hurt myself doing it because I won’t stop.
Problem is, really big projects leave me burnt out and resentful. My ability to sustain a long-term project is crap. It’s all or nothing, frenzy or flop. Somehow I am lacking the software to quietly work away at something little by little and get it done without needing six weeks of physical therapy afterward. When I was making the Aunt G & the Stone City Nephews record, I got so sick of it that I could barely listen. The crowdfunding part of it nearly sent me into the black pit of despair.
I am typing this right now with the badly swollen fingers of someone who can’t stop picking up the guitar even though it hurts. It doesn’t hurt so good anymore, it just hurts. (Yeah, I already put arnica on them. I know all the tricks.)
So, it’s interesting that the Tarot deck is showing me Temperance nearly every day. Temperance. Balance. A little of this and a little of that. The real definition of perfectly imperfect. I have worked hard to create a life where I have lots of different things to do so I don’t get bored or overdo one thing and end up with yet another repetitive stress injury–and most of the time, my days contain a lot of completely different things. But not this week. And not two weeks ago. And not in December.
I don’t have any solutions. I’m sharing this because I know that a bunch of creatives read this stuff, and some of you do the same damn thing. And sometimes it’s fine, but sometimes it’s just stupid, and I don’t have time for stupid. Nor do you. So let’s help each other out. I’m going to brainstorm a few possible strategies for tempering my obsessing, and I’ll ask you to post a reply with some ideas yourself, and maybe we can learn from each other. Maybe between all of us, we’ll come up with some good ideas that will create a solution. I’m counting on you; seriously, my fingers cannot take much more of this, and I have gigs coming up.
Five strategies for tempering obsessive creative outbursts:
- Set an obnoxious timer somewhere across the room so you have to get up to turn it off. Give yourself 60 minutes, and then force a small break, even for a drink of water or a minute of stretching. Counter-stretch the muscles you’re using so rigor mortis doesn’t set in.
- Put lots of extra stuff on the daily to-do list and make yourself complete at least three before you can start obsessing. Then after your hour is up, make yourself complete one more before you can dive back in–and set that timer for another hour.
- Get your favorite decadent treat but don’t allow yourself to have any unless you take a break from your project. When you come up for air, you get two bites of heaven.
- Make a deal with a friend to be your accountability buddy. Send a text when you start working, and in approximately an hour they will call you to check on your progress–but they’ll also make sure you get up, move around, and get a drink of water. Tell them to ask you if you are in pain, and if the answer is yes, then you know you have to stop, and you know that they know that you are hurting yourself.
- Therapy dog. A trained Golden Retriever picks you up by the scruff of the neck, carries you into another room, and stands guard so you can’t go back in.
Alright, maybe not all of these are realistic. Okay maybe all but one. I mean, motivation with treats is an unhealthy habit.
So what are your ideas for strategies to help keep us creatives from diving into deep water and not coming up for air until we’ve nearly passed out? Let’s get the conversation started, and maybe provide a little accountability for each other.