Growing up in the Mormon Church it’s a requirement to have sense of emergency preparedness. When I became an adult and started a family I felt a greater responsibility to be prepared.
Living in Utah, where “everyone” is prepared, it felt less important. After moving to Portland my awareness of the need to be prepared kicked into high gear. The PNW is earthquake country. It’s part of the lifestyle. Unlike the freak ice storm in Texas, we know an earthquake is going to happen, we just don’t know when. Knowing something will happen but not knowing when is what makes preparedness essential. Thanks to the internet getting prepared is a rabbit hole. It’s next to impossible to know where to start or what to do. Any kind of catch all information will leave you with bags of pinto beans you won’t eat, or a hand saw that is too impractical to use. Getting prepared takes a little research into knowing what you need to be prepared for. If you’re building a food supply, start with what your family will eat (for us it’s black beans not pinto beans) If you’re preparing for a natural disasters what kind of disaster are you preparing for? (The most common natural disaster in Washington is a flood). For the most part preparedness doesn’t mean being completely prepared but having a plan, or even just an idea of what to do when things go south.
For most of us small decisions and having a few things in place will, at worst, make a crummy situation more comfortable, and at best save your family’s life. I wouldn’t call myself a “prepper” but I am happy I reloaded the go bag in my car when we’re out for a hike and I forgot a raincoat, or we’re moving from one after school activity to another and I can give my kids a snack without having to wait in line for fast food. Like so many things a little preparedness goes a long way.
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My first response to everything is to pull out my phone and look it up. The ability to look up everything and having an answer at my finger tips has made it more likely I will ignore the information in front of me. Relying, instead on the answer the internet provides. It’s a bit of a catch 22. Having more information is always better, but under developing the ability to analyze the circumstances to determine what’s needed, or better yet, what information is needed is catastrophic. As beneficial as theory is it will never replace action. “Theory is extremely important – but it can never be more than an aid, a tool for crystallizing and refining natural intuition; and as such it must always come second to that intuition. Your intuition!” The Limitations of Theory Tommy Wonder and Stephen Minch It’s impossible to describe but when we know it when we feel it. The path to get to reliable intuition takes time and effort. Robert Greene outlines the steps to mastery as three stage process.
1. Apprentice
A good academic program and where most people get stuck is in the first stage. The theory stage. It is a safe place to be. It’s easy to come back to, to rely on. Most importantly it feels like accomplishing a lot with little effort. I stay at this level primarily out of fear of failing in the next level. I have been successful and I don’t want to give it up. Especially when it comes with the all the baggage of the second stage. All emotions we’re familiar with. Unfortunately the sheer access to information becomes the ultimate stop gap to moving on. Google is a constant siren song. A distractor from feeling uncomfortable with the only path to mastery. Set aside information and go through the discomfort is the only way to create reliable intuition. In the documentary AKA Mr. Chow there is a clip where M describes himself: “I’m a prince. Look at my hands, they’re soft and delicate, no hard or manual labor.” This is the exact opposite of what I pursue.
Admissions work is knowledge work. Very few things are tangible in education. It’s the nature of knowledge. Because of that I have a longing to create something physical. Where my mark can be felt. Not in pursuit of recognition (maybe a little recognition), but in pursuit of existence. Perhaps a reminder of being physically alive. Marking my time on the planet. This is really a philosophical justification for the fact that I like to get my hands dirty. I love looking down and seeing my hands marked up, worn out, bleeding. All signs of doing the work. It started in college spending time in the art studio. I’d leave covered in paint, pastel, or graphite. This was particularly satisfying when I was working on a long term project. My dirty hands were sign of progress. Doing the work that needed to be done to reach my goal. Working at Oregon College of Art and Craft I was surrounded by students and colleagues who couldn’t help but make. Their lives were defined by it. I envied them. Creating feels so much better than consuming. As much as I like to look down and see the dirt under my fingernails I often hesitate to start or continue a project that results in dirty hands. This hesitation reminds me a story my dad told over the pulpit about doing the dishes. Putting your hands into the soapy, dirty, water to get the dishes done is uncomfortable. It can be a barrier to even getting started, holding off on the task for as long possible. Giving space for my thoughts to reinforce how awful it is to do the dishes. But getting started, dipping my hands in the water is enough to keep going. Proving at the end that the dishes weren’t as bad as I thought they’d be. I have a bias against anger. I don’t like the way it feels. I have never found it useful. If it’s not useful then what’s the point? I grew up avoiding it at all costs. Hanging on to the adage: Turn the other cheek.
Anger made me feel out of control, reacting in ways I’m not proud of. The shame I felt after my behavior was enough to reinforce the benefit of suppressing my anger. My understanding of anger has shifted recently thanks to the process of parenting and the work of Brené Brown. I’ve incorrectly judged emotions because of how they felt in the moment. With some reflection they can provide insight into who I am and how I work. Which is extremely uncomfortable. Anger, when I don’t ignore it, can be a good motivator. It’s a strong enough emotion that it can drive action consistently. Wanting to prove others wrong, may be a problematic intention but it helps manage my consistent effort to see it through. Like in many past new years I am trying to go to the gym more. When I’ve set this goal in the past it is about accomplishing something. Reaching out to some vague attainment that never gets realized. Instead, I get burnt out or distracted. It becomes harder to get back on the gym train because the goal feels further away and more impossible to reach.
Rather than focusing on the end, this year (actually since September of 2023), I am focusing on the going. Getting to the gym is the goal. So many times my workout was dependent on the time I got out of bed, any delay felt like it set the dominos back putting me further behind the rest of my day. If I didn’t have time to complete my workout then why go at all? I have reframe this as, as long as I get to the gym I will workout until I need to be back to start my day, no matter how much or little gets done. If I show up to the gym, I’ve done the work. The big insight has been on the days I get out of bed late I am still able to get most of my workout in, and in some cases all of it. My body feels much better when I do something (even a little) then when I do nothing. Reminds me of a story about my mom, who made it a goal to clean up all the rocks in our backyard in Las Vegas (there were a lot of rocks). Because they were rocks she couldn’t put too many in the garbage can at one time. Otherwise it would be too heavy for the garbage collector to pick it up. Every week she would fill up a plastic 1-gallon ice cream bucket and put in the in garbage. It took a while, but eventually the majority of the rocks were gone. Maintenance tasks for daily living can be tedious and mundane. These tasks produce very little immediate gratification, which makes them hard to stay on top of. Growing up with participation awards I developed a reward seeking behavior for anything that appeared outside of my immediate responsibility. Which translates as the things that aren’t rewarding in and of themselves. I’d like to reframe this reward-seeing behavior and establish a stronger foundation to the way I live.
The phrase “Adulting is Hard” resonates because I still feel 17. At that age I enjoyed many of the freedoms of being older without the responsibilities of living on my own. I would never go back but my daily adult responsibilities can still feel like they belong to someone else. I was praised for completing any of these tasks as a 17 year old. Now at 40 there are just some things I’d rather not do. When I do them I want to be acknowledged and rewarded. Many of these tasks I would categorize as mundane. They aren’t difficult or complicated. Many of them don’t take a ton of time. They sit right in the sweet spot between I can do this later, and it won’t take very long. Making it prime for procrastination. What I’ve only recently recognized is the maintenance these tasks provide. Like wiping down the sink after the dishes, or chopping a little bit of kindling every weekend. A few minutes spent now take the pain out of the task later on. The reward is not immediate and is only recognized when I’m forced to do the full blown task. Part of the reason it’s so easy to stay where I am is because it takes the same effort I’m putting in now. No new action = no new reward. The phrase “dress for the job you want” is a metaphor for taking the seemingly unnecessary steps to get to where I want. Dressing up for work takes time and effort and the reward is hard to measure. But there are subtle shifts in how I hold myself, how I approach my day, and they way I think about my work when I take the time to put on an ironed shirt. Shifting away from seeking reward for these daily tasks reframes as path to success rather than highlighting the barriers to the reward. Moving to a long tail game rather than the short term win. This is what I think is meant by learning to love the process. In art class, the day projects are due is stressful. It’s the day we walk into the classroom, hang our art on the wall, and circle up to comment on the work. The intention behind art critique is to get better. To see things we’d missed because we were too close to the process. This is hard, it is especially hard with peers. Yet, I haven’t met anyone who didn’t want this, or had a positive experience with it.
Making room for candid conversation with the intention of improving is uncomfortable. Despite wanting this kind of feedback it takes incredible vulnerability to get here. A good art critique is not something we jump into. It’s a process. We have to warm up and get used to the water and everyones comments. Get used to looking at the our personal work next to those who are obviously more skilled. It’s this transition into the critique that makes it or breaks it. As someone who has facilitated a few art critiques, brain trusts, post mortems, come to Jesus (whatever you want to call them) there is one key factor that consistently makes the transition work. A willingness to vulnerable. Showing vulnerability at the beginning puts people at ease. Breaking the ice in a way that allows the candid conversation to be candid. Any real critique must be based in honesty. This morning at the gym I got into a brief conversation with one of the other regulars. He was moving a little slower than normal. So, I asked if he was alright. His response surprised me. After telling me the workout was feeling extra hard, he told me he also does jujitsu 4-5 days a week in the evening. “That,” he said, “I need. Working out is something I have to do, but jujitsu is like going to church for me.”
That last bit stuck me. I would have never described church as being something I need, but I knew exactly what he meant. At different parts of my life this need for me was filled by things like, music, improv, or art. Writing, and even the gym fill that role now. It’s hard for me to accept the things I need. It makes me feel needy. Instead I brush them off as no big deal, setting them aside. After a period of time I start to feel outside myself. A little off, like something is wrong. When I’ve finally had enough of that I finally “go to church” - pick up my guitar, spend some time writing, lift something heavy - and the world falls back into place. This is what I think people mean by taking care of my mental health. |