sunday scaries
learning to choose
Garden of Water and Wind | Sarah Kavage, 2022
[and all subsequent images]
I couldn’t shake the feeling. It began as a slow knock and inevitably became a pounding by weekend’s close. Monday was bearing down. In a matter of hours I’d be back at work again. back to the monotonous grind. how the hell did people do this in perpetuity? why did my coworkers seem genuinely excited to pull off another holiday season? The private equity firm had already nixed our bonuses, evidence of a weak year.
Meanwhile, I booked the same container ships over and over. A constant churn between Shanghai and Long Beach, back and forth. I recognized their names now. YM Mutuality. ONE Commitment. CMA CGM Integrity. a mockery of what could be.
With each shipment I was asked to check a box: “Did I want to add a carbon offset fee?”
Yes, yes I did. A different world was possible. We just had to buy it.
time was lurching forward.
I spent most of the weekend working on an animation that you will find in the next newsletter. During its making I was plagued with shoulds. What should I be doing instead. What was I even doing? I didn’t know anything about animation. Was this charade just another form of resistance to my real art?
Time was flying.
Two hours gone in a blink. another two. then four.
It seemed to taunt me.
In contrast, I’d had other experiences of time. moments when it slowed to a crawl. There were mornings I’d spent writing, confident an hour had passed. Then I’d turn to the clock. only 10 minutes.
That was a particular kind of glee.
At some point it hit me.
During the weekend I was stuck in a tortuous limbo, body and mind at odds. Sure I immersed myself in the animation, but I hadn’t actually committed, not really. I hadn’t chosen. The creativity gods knew it too. And I had paid for it, steeply, in time.
Choosing was the golden ticket off of the barreling train. I had to surrender to its imperfection, to the possibility of being wrong, to my own finiteness. Anything else was a farce, an attempt to bend fate.
Time spoke in commitment. in clarity. It answered in the present moment. unfolded, then expanded. I had to stop tip-toeing. I needed to let myself be pummeled by uncertainty and choose anyway. take root in that one moment. let the cards fall. risk everything.