Creating Calm

Power Plays for The World We Want

Photo by Aleksandr Eremin on Unsplash

I wanted to title today’s post, “I will, I will, I will; I won’t!” to reflect my mood this week - of taking on too much, of having obligation thrust upon me unbidden. But naturally, when I went to find the magic in that, the only thing answering was the power of refusal.

It’s a power we all have, one we may too often forget to exercise, but is it really the answer? I’m as big a fan as any of a little light escapism - from “beach read” to “comfort food” to “popcorn flick” or “bingeable content” but take the escaping too far, and it always turns problematic.

Better that I / we seek calm - the magic of spaciousness, stillness, and peace - less burying heads in sand and more continuing forward with awakeness and awareness for the things that make us able, resilient, and open to joy.

I have been reading bits from Kate Bowler, who’s been touring her book, Joyful, Anyway, so I guess that explains my bent toward peace, anyway, but the fact is, even had my recent refrain been “I won’t, I won’t, I won’t, I will” instead of the opposite, I’d still be challenged to find calm. It’s just not the modus operandi of the modern world.

Supposedly our current world order is one in which “uber” players (billionaires, corporate leaders, anyone with a giant mouthpiece) can shape things according to their wants or visions, while the rest of us make our way however we can. It doesn’t lend to peaceful thinking.

Not so ironically, the world has always worked this way. And it’s always been tough.

I never appreciated those lectures on “how the world works.” I prefer more serene scapes or candy-colored pictures, images easier to sustain in individual bubbles of privilege or, you know, escapism. If we stay small, play small - the thinking goes, we won’t have to acknowledge the anxieties of feeling out of control in a big, bad universe. Ordinary is comfortable. “Normal” is predictable.

But we can’t live in escape from reality. We can’t unsee what happens around us; we will be called upon, whether or not that’s what we want; we don’t mean to overreach ourselves, but we do; we’re drawn into drama despite… If we are awake, we have to deal. What, then?

So much more exists beyond our limited ordinaries. The magic of a wide-angle lens is that it sets the world of possibility in perspective - some of it’s awful, some of it’s bone-wearying, some of it’s wonderful. Our ongoing task is to access the wonder, to leverage the balance. And when we then create, our efforts can contribute to what others need. Now, that’s magic!

But…

“Usually, our minds are so busy and clogged with information there’s hardly time and space for the imagination to do its thing, and the thing it does is sublime.” - Sue Monk Kidd

So, in this season, I’m focusing on ways I can stop the clock-mood-drama-mental load in favor of the wonder. Some of my favorite techniques include:

Recognizing quiet moments - Sure, but in the midst of busyness or stress, these are what we think we can’t find, right? Actually, we probably have more moments than we think, even in our busiest of days - we just miss the quiet, amidst our own froth. I caught myself frantically reading a book over coffee (how is that possible? ). I had a quiet moment, and I killed it with pressure over a library due date. Once I recognized what I was doing, I changed settings and entered into the moment differently.

Creative play - Now that I finally have an office space with materials to hand, I might pick up some puppets, open a sketchbook, or “doodle out of stuckness”

Doing one thing at a time - This is both simpler and more difficult than it sounds; I’m socialized to multi-task, but when I narrow my plans to literally putting one step in front of the other, the slowdown is resettling.

Opting for the joyful - I have goofy friends (who send goofy gifs), people to celebrate, and certain music guaranteed to uplift (mine is September by Earth, Wind, and Fire - what’s yours?)

Serving others - Yes, sometimes a regular service commitment hits my calendar with a thud; sometimes the “too much” overwhelming me is related to voluntary donations of energy and time. The funny thing is, I never feel that way in the midst of acts of service, only in the juggle to get there. It’s a reminder that I need to be pulled from my illusion-of-control bubble in order to truly take in the world.

Do without thinking - This may be hardest of all for us overthinkers — I find repetitive motion tasks help - folding, stacking, sorting, cleaning, walking, climbing, rearranging; things that prioritize the physical take me out of my thinking brain into reactive, responsive spaces, where I can gain a little peace and ultimately open to my creative brain.

Of course, your mileage my vary. As a wise writer recently noted, “Advice isn’t what you should do. It’s what worked for someone else.”

So, I’m sticking with the picture books 😁

Per last months’ strategic attempt a establishing an uplifting morning routine, I’ve continued my near-daily rhythm of reading a picture book with my coffee or tea or whatever. I try not to rush through (though sometimes I do; sometimes, I miss a day and double or triple up, which doesn’t have quite the same effect, but I’m in the river, so’s the flow) My library card is definitely getting a workout. And yep, there are welcome bits of joy, calm, and spaciousness along the way! It shouldn’t come as a surprise that much of what I read in May made coincidental (or magical?) connections to the power plays mentioned above:

• Made for More by Chloe Ito Ward

• Bad Kitty, by Nick Bruel —> Does funny bring you joy? This one did for me. I read it and laughed and read it again.

• Bartleby, by Matt Phelan —> This very quiet book creates its own quiet moments because the protagonist’s refrain is “I prefer not.” Life lesson?

• Be A Maker, by Katey Howes —> This one celebrates service, cleverly invoking making with everything from snacks to friends to “a difference," in bouncing rhyme.

• Billie and Bean in the Mountains, by Julia Hansson

• Bob the Vampire Snail, by Andrea Zuill —> More joyful ridiculousness. Did you know that all snails are named Bob?

• Bug on the Rug, by Sophia Gholz

• Enough Is, by Jessica Whipple —> Sweet and lightly lyrical, with thoughtful consideration about what is ENOUGH —serving others is part of it.

• I Think I Think A Lot, by Jessica Whipple —> Yeah, Whipple wrote this for young me (or maybe current me). One-thing-at-a-time might be an answer.

• Little Monster Says Goodnight, by David Slonim

• Makers, by Young Vo

• Rube Goldberg’s Simple Normal Humdrum School Day, by Jennifer George —> Just like the real Rube, this book by his granddaughter celebrates the elaborately imagined doodle OR creative play OR repetitive motion, everything except one thing at a time. Fun!

• The Bakery Dragon, by Devin Ellie Kurtz

• The Elevator on 74th St., by Laura Gehl —> I felt for this elevator! Its repetitive motion leads to a friendship, so….

• When Twilight Comes, by Marcie Flinchum Atkins —> This one is absolutely gorgeous! You can lean into quiet moments at two twilights - dawn and dusk!

• Triangle, Square, and Circle, three books that play together, by Mac Barnett and Jon Klassen —> funny, of course; simple, of course; and perhaps the superpower for calm I forgot to include - taking small things at face value.

Hope you create some calm of your own in the days ahead!