(Click on the thumbnail to view larger image)I am in that state that, for me, always follows a massive project. Inevitably, my whole system is thrown out of whack by the sudden withdrawal from the extreme doses of adrenalin that coursed through my body during the encounter. While at work on the assignment, my concentration is honed to a fine point. Everything I see, read, or hear seems related to the endeavor and I exist in a heightened state. Distractions either become another way of seeing what must be seen in order to complete the task, or they are dispatched and forgotten. Physical problems are suppressed and I reach down deep (or way up high) someplace beyond the problems for strength, or freedom from pain or diversion, and forge ahead. Real-life problems and worries get pushed under the proverbial rug. The reserves of energy and clarity that are called in to play produce a sense of heightened abilities and an increased awareness that, for a time, make almost anything seem possible.
Finally, when the work is done, the plunge back to normalcy—that let down or falling back to earth—many of us feel after completing a sizable creative endeavor is very real for me. You would think I would be better at managing it, since I have lived with it (off of it, for it, whatever) most of my life. Unfortunately, I am only marginally better at managing my energies now than I was when I first began participating in theatre and enduring the letdown that inevitably ensued as soon as the curtain fell on the final performance.
SoFoBoMo has had that effect on me. This isn’t a complaint. I am thoroughly delighted that I took part and wouldn’t take it back for anything. What I learned was, for me, the equivalent of a one-month crash course through a year’s worth of information. I will be profiting by the experience and blessing it for years to come. Still, it’s there—the sense of being a bit at loose ends—that space where all that energy was created and spent feels particularly empty right now.
This time around all these feelings are compounded by some other issues. Since we are in limbo—neither here nor there—moving supposedly, yet there is no movement—the lostness is intensified. Having only recently given up running my studio plays into this, of course. With teaching those very personal classes, I always had several creative projects I was juggling. After all, each actor was a work in progress and my contribution in guidance was part of a long-term creative project that was never really complete and produced a steady stream of challenge and frustration tempered with satisfaction and encouragement. Thus, for me, another project is a matter of survival. I can’t control that potential buyer out there who is going to buy our house. I can’t begin the next adventure until I am physically in that place.
My way of dealing with this lostness, was to begin a project and see if I can make something. (I have already mentioned my secret.) Sure enough,the work—the intense focus is pushing me through this period and taking my mind off things I can't control. Somewhere along the way my family came up with a silly saying when I was growing up. I have no earthly idea where it came from, but when someone was doing something not really responsible, or even harmlessly foolish, one of us (in the beginning one of my parents, probably) would say with a grin, “Well, at least it keeps him out of the pool halls.” So here I am. At least I won’t be hanging out in any pool halls for the next couple of weeks.
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