Sunday, August 10, 2008

the art of busyness

A phobia seems to have crept up over and in me throughout the past year, perhaps a subtle fear moreso than phobia, and that is the fear or phobia of being "too busy".

If I have too much on I feel anxious and I get that projective, crabby feeling of wishing I had more time to myself.

This weekend was a busy weekend and quick-as-a-wink, it's over, finished. Within an hour or so I'll be staring down the black hole of sleep to wake up to work-a-day world Monday. But I can't really complain, I don't start work until 11am, so that affords me a sleep-in of sorts.

I wasn't looking forward to today, there were too many things to do. I really should relax in my way of thinking as today turned out to be a fine Sunday. Getting up late and groggy from too much sleep, cleaning up bits of this and that. And out the door to a Bavarian Bier Cafe where you realise that whoever said that 'beer is the nectar of the gods' was certainly not being flippant! Freshly brewed German-style only regret is that I was driving so I had to keep the fuel intake low...otherwise I would have had me a right oktoberfest. In hindsight, a good thing that I was driving, hmm!

My hearts yearnings and cravings were sated as I relaxed into a mid-afternoon drive, taking immense delight in the afternoon ambience. It was a clear day with fresh dry ice-cold wind. The leaves were shimmering their bright luscious green amidst the light as they swayed & moved in the afternoon breeze. The clouds were distinct and dramatic, each of them lined with cobalt-blue coloured edges. I felt at home, I always do on a beautiful day. I was reminded of what I read last night in Bob Dylan's chronicles, relating to narrator Bob visiting writer Archie McLeish for the second time, sometime in the late sixties...

"I was escorted in across the wooden bridge - up the path - in the distance a long dead tree, branches shooting off from the main trunk - all very serene, very picturesque. I crossed over the eroded gully full of rotting leaves with distilled beams of light coming off of rock fragments, walked up the dry, rocky ridge that led to his door..."

I remember thinking in bed, I need this, a dismayed sense of yearning for some true, vibrant life.

The time I was most happiest this year was in Tasmania, in January. Such a pristine, relatively unspoilt island!! I thought to move there and live there, and be happy, free from the trappings of the mainland, far from the big city. But it's such a hard call. Where I am is where it's at, as far as connections and opportunities go, to make music, to meet people, and the rest of it. I know deep down, essentially, I'm not interested in where it's at, I just want sanctuary. And with it plenty of greenery, sunlight and a river and coastline for good measure. The problem with Tasmania is that it's too cold, the warmth flickers with uncertain irregularity during the summer months. Perhaps needling closer to the equator is the way to go. But then there's the humidity to consider and the summers that never seem to end. I do appreciate autumn, in all its aspects, its colours, reflections, its symbolic value.

At Forestville this afternoon, instead of waiting by the doorway of my friend who wasn't as yet home I wandered off nearby to the opening of a national park walkway. I only knew it existed because I recently noticed it in the street directory. I only walked a short distance, onto a pathway that led down a gully onto a creek-bed that the walkway followed through. Nothing existed except for the walkway, the immense greenery surrounding it, and the creek beside me. That, and sunlight filtering through. I felt so, deliciously, happy. I looked around, up and around at this sun-motted greenfest, and thanked God for my life. And I reversed and climbed my way back to Forestville, back to leafy civilisation. Forestville is a leafy suburb, which is a plus in my way of perception.

After a fine little sing-a-long with Brigette we all drove down to North Sydney and enjoyed some tasty, life-affirming vegetarian food at the Hare Krishnas. And I drove off to my final destination feeling pretty good. Finally, by 10pm, I was back home.

Perhaps I shouldn't concern myself with having too much on. I know on weeknights I need two, ideally 3 nights per week where I'm not doing anything at all. I need to rest, and recharge my psyche after the ravages and psychological scars that work inflicts. I'm exaggerating of course, work is pretty good and for the most part I enjoy it. The problem is there are so many things I'd love to be doing outside of work, including this(!), that it is now putting pressure on my time factor. The next relationship I fall into will perhaps spell the culling of one or more of my activities that have built up over the past few years where I've remained for the most part single. Part of me would like to stay single to simply have time to myself and to do lots of creative little things, but that's not the way to approach life. Needless to say I'm not lonely and I'm not unhappy.

I've been invited tomorrow night to go to 505 to see/hear some jazz. I don't think I'll go. I need to rest.


Polydora said...

"I know deep down, essentially, I'm not interested in where it's at, I just want sanctuary."

You want sanctuary, but perhaps you also need "interaction"?

The city often times provides that interactive network that feeds our creativity and helps us grow artistically. It's like attending college: in a class room we often learn a lot more and far more quickly because there is dialog and debate, a rapid exchange of ideas and opinions.

I've always been pulled between the two: rural country life and the buzz of the city. My ideal right now is to have a home on some land about 1 hour from a metropolitan city; and that's so long as one hour away puts me in the 'middle of nowhere.'

I only need a city on occasion. In general, I tend to be reclusive. But when I'm out... I'm "on." It's a strange mix perhaps. Maybe the duality of being a Gemini. I dunno.

ross b said...

I feel the same way. I find I'm happiest when I'm out of the city. Problem is that work, play and social interaction is all part of city-life. Like you I tend to be reclusive but sometimes I can be quite the opposite, pro-active and dynamic and 'out-there'!

My idea of heaven on earth is sunshine, greenery, trees, flowers in bloom, foliage, and patches of land to grow my own produce, ie, a bit more towards sustainable living. This is something I aim towards, and hope to realise within the next decade or so. My sister & bro-in-law, currently living in Hobart, Tasmania, plan to move up to the Hunter region of NSW, about 2 hours north of Sydney, and buy a patch of land and do just that. If this transpires I'll be watching keenly, and as we've discussed between us, I may be involved in the process.

The city is great, but it's not the ideal existence.


enjoying a bevvy Awakening to the ‘good’ in our lives and to the fulfilling sense of gratitude which follows often comes to us via ...