I’ve been trying hard not to see this past week as “wasted.” Chronic back pain knocked me down, once again, and there was not much I could do about it. A long-awaited epidural injection late in the week will eventually provide relief… but, as the doctor said, “You may feel worse before you start feeling better.”
Yeah.
It was a think about a lot of things and do nothing about them sort of week, much of it spent lying flat in bed, waiting for Injection Day. Not only was I distracted by the pain, but I was also exhausted by the wait, and extremely frustrated by my inability to accomplish one single thing. (Self-compassion does not come easily to me.)
The night after the shot (and yes, I felt much worse for many hours), it occurred to me: maybe I’m supposed to lie fallow for a while…?
There’s a small field next to my rental cottage that’s been lying fallow for several years, due to the lack-of-water situation here in the desert. The field is just sitting there, tilled and dry as a bone, empty except for the occasional tumbleweed, which I guess can grow anywhere. One day, maybe, the irrigation issues will be solved and people will grow crops there again. One can only hope.
I just looked up the definition of fallow — to make sure I was in the right metaphoric ballpark. Fallow could mean “land that is left unseeded for a period of time” and also “a period of inactivity or dormancy.” (Merriam-Webster online.)
Hmmm.
It’s odd to be an “un-seeded” sort of creative person. After all, I just wrapped up 100 days of sustained creative practice. Shouldn’t my mind and heart be full of seeds? I should be bursting with creative seeds… inspiration… extrapolations… tangents… and discoveries from those 100 days! Right?
Well, kind of. But also… not quite yet.
I think I know which bits of my project I’d like to carry forward as part of my creative experimentation. But, wow, I just can’t seem to get on with it! I’m sort of stuck in this moment of transition. No matter how many times I tell myself to put the collage fodder and mini-book ingredients away, and turn to Whatever’s Next, I just can’t quite get there.
So, when my annoying lumbar spine laid me low last week, I lay in bed, staring across the room at my art supplies, and feeling guilty. But ever so gradually, I had a revelation:
What if these last few days (and there were really only a few) are a necessary fallow period? What if I’m like that field next door, not purposely seeded (yet), not rooting (yet), and certainly not sprouting — but simply pausing? Maybe, just maybe, this was the perfect time to be quiet and take stock. How do I want to build on those 100 days of creative practice? What do I want to carry forward… or tuck away for later… or do more of… or never do again?
The shot is taking effect (hooray). I can think clearly for longer than a minute. I can move around comfortably, which feels so good. And my wheels have begun to turn again. I do need to clear away the 100 day debris and supplies, but I am ready — or nearly ready — to peek around the corner at Whatever’s Next.
Stay tuned.
(Written with zero participaton from AI. All those em-dashes and ellipses are products of my very own scattered mind.)
Lying fallow may just be another name for creativity breath work.
YES! For me, this post is about acceptance and faith....thank you. And thanks for sharing a glimpse into your inner world and inner dialogue. So relatable, so painful, that taskmaster...It is not all about "producing." Rest can be a holy and creative act.