My friend recently told me she would like to learn from me the secrets of productivity, as it seems I am "managing it well". That surprised me... and then I started to wonder whether I even think of myself as productive. I guess I have these waves... when the inspiration calls, and I respond. It's like activating a spiral. It then grows. Ideas build new ideas. Clarity comes. I just need to begin, and it flows on... But that's sometimes. Other times I still find it difficult to be in harmony between the child, home care, husband, being social, being for myself, being creative. Anyway, I am happy with my recent evolving, so I'll agree on the "productivity". Before this year has begun, I was well tied to the domestic duties and most often could not find a way to creatively use the time of Saule's naps. I felt the need to clean, tidy, fold, dust-off, broom, whatever... It was me who tied myself to the domestic duties, and knowing that - I still couldn't get much relief. Of course, at some point the house work needs to be done. As no-one really expected it of me or implied it on me, it was a self-imposed and perhaps after all a very needed part of my days. It was a pathway of becoming a more creative mother and woman. I remember my husband telling me countless times things like: "Look, you don't need to do this now", or "There'll always be something to clean in this house, you can relax", or "She's asleep now, so - 'writing, yoga, painting' - remember?" And it drove me mad, because I needed to wash the dishes til the end, clean the shelves in the veranda till the end, basically do anything TIL THE END, until I could finally sit and immerse myself in my creations... Which hardly ever happened until Saule was 2 years of age. Then things switched. We moved into a new (but in fact very old) apartment, my mother came over from Warsaw to help me bring it into a neat condition, and... art began to flow. Before,I could hardly ever ignore such sight: ...now I was a mistress of it. It even gave me a funny tingle and a nonchalant feeling to simply pass it by and carry on writing. I broke free! And I did more, I did anything. I did imperfectly. I did messily. I finally understood what Leonie Dawson meant by Riding the Wild Donkey - not in theory, but at heart. It is true I sometimes compromised my sleep in order to do more, but that blended into the whole dance, and I could manage it, I could make it in small enough "doses", without feeling depleted. And I was driven by my passion. I believe passion is the thing that matters the most. Your inner fire you kindle yourself, one that sparks atop of any idea you come forth with. So one December evening I started to draw an outline for a snail puppet I wished to sew for Saule as a Christmas gift. I found the suitable shape online and looked for it mostly because I was simply curious of how the other people draw the snails. So there it was. The next morning, I copied the outline and started to colour it in... I liked the image so much, I've hung it in a visible place, under the clock on our kitchen wall. Looking at it, each time brought me so much warmth, I was even smiling.
Something was simmering in me... getting ready... I began to see that snail at the top of my blog (which I run very modestly and showed to few people.) Coincidentally, some weeks before that, Saule began asking me to draw snails... Continuously. Many times per day. Many times in a row... We had pages and pages covered with spirals (snails). Next to the big one, she'd always ask me to draw another, small one. I began to understand the meaning of a snail and related that to my situation. It was clear: we were both snails. I was a big one, my daughter was a small one. I did things slowly, because I was taking care after her and couldn't do much at the same time. She did things slowly, because she was small; her short legs couldn't sometimes catch up with mine, many skills were yet clumsy and in the sweet learning stage. We were two slow creatures. Happily slow. I began to celebrate snails. This is how I started the Milk Diaries. I wanted to celebrate my motherhood through arts. Not do it aside of my daughter, not to get upset about the time that I might be "lacking" or "missing", but to do things in the time that I HAVE and to do them deliberately. I had my own tempo and even if working an hour or two per day would make my general progress slow, I was suddenly OK with that. I knew I would then use these hours to the fullest, would really give myself to them. My productivity increased right there. Things are complete. Whether you believe it or not. You maybe see only one or two steps ahead, but the things in you are already done and perfect. Once you allow and open - they start to flow. Whatever you've been doing, takes a fuller shape, a deeper meaning, a beautiful glow, and it's now visible once you allow. That "allowing" means sometimes not washing up, or writing a total nonsense in your journal, taking a walk to an unknown place, burning old photographs, staying in your pajamas all day, doodling for hours (no matter what chaos around), letting the dust balls roll under the furniture... Allowing means opening yourself up to whatever comes at you, and then just smile at it. Your days will transform. Days lead to Another Days, and every day can be full of art. Sometimes the art lays undone... Whatever time it takes to make it, that is the right time.
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August 2020
May all mothers find peace in this creative universe and often rest their heads on its playful lap ♥
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