the report | vol 17

looking back on march + the suffocation of creativity

I haven’t been having a lot of creative thoughts lately.

There’s a concept from A Creative Act that sticks with me more than anything else from its pages: creativity needs space and stillness.

Thinking doesn't always solve the problem. Sometimes creating space allows inspiration to do the work

—Rick Ruben, A Creative Act

Ideas need room to roam—mentally, emotionally, and physically. When you’re constantly occupied—when you’re ruminating, agonizing, bracing, and just generally “busy-body-ing”, creativity is suffocated. Inspiration cannot strike if there’s no room for it to land.

I suppose “you can’t pour from an empty cup” also fits into this category. Although maybe not in the way it’s conventionally used.

Lately, I’ve been consumed by the kind of anxiety that comes from having too much on your plate. It’s like having an itch that never goes away, no matter how much you scratch. My to-do list never finished, always something I could and should be doing, the weight of feeling like I need to tick things off tainting every free moment.

When I do take time away from the shoulds of my life, it’s hard to enjoy myself. It’s even less than going through the motions—it’s a dissociative daze.

I often wonder: Am I bad at time management or taking on too much? My inclination is to be self-flagellating and tell myself that I should be better at managing my time. But then I look at the laundry list of projects: a busy season at my day job, the new certification I’m working on, the business I’m starting, the classes I’m teaching, the workshops I leading, the substack that I love so much, the taxes that need to get done (barf), the skills I’m learning and goals I refuse to let die, the house that needs maintained, the friendships that need tending to… and lest I forget my soul that needs nurturing.

How do other people do it? I catch myself thinking. How do people have 9-5’s AND give their all to their side hustles? It feels impossible. But then, I look at my list and think,

This is a totally unreasonable amount of stuff— it makes sense that I’m overwhelmed.

It’s a rare thing for me to have grace with myself.

This is a season that I admittedly don’t love. I wish I was bringing you enlightening, well-researched, and thoughtful essays about all of the interesting things about the human experience. But the current reality of my human experience is that most of my time is spent in my house, staring at my computer screen.

Which doesn’t exactly scream “inspiration”.

In the wake of one of my essays going “viral” (or the Substack-equivalent of virality, I guess), I’m plagued by another type of anxiety—what if I never write anything as good as that ever again? What if I never have another good idea in my entire life? All of these people who came here for thoughtful and artful insights are going to be disappointed and leave.

Another ceiling for creative thinking.

Truthfully, this season truly feels like the dark before the dawn. But the most important part is that the dawn is coming. And If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my 32 years about life’s dark seasons, it’s that 1) they never last, and 2) when they do finally end, life shines brighter in ways that you could have never predicted.

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OK, now on to something a little bit lighter: the report.

When I initially started the weekly report, it was meant to be a fun, casual space where I could inject more of my personality and my life in real time.

But in this season, I’m paring down EVERYTHING and taking as much off my plate as possible. Two newsletters a week is just not something I have the bandwidth for (also, I’m not doing enough during the week to report on, ope). SO, the weekly report is now just “the report”: a thoughtful collection of moments, thoughts, and lessons from the past month from my heart to your inbox.

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reading —

embarrassment has good bones by @Katie Bird

we should all talk to strangers by @Angelina Hazzouri

beauty of the ordinary by @milk and cookies

eating — pizza

If there’s a pizza worth waiting two hours for, it’s Ken’s Artisan Pizza.

Ken’s is a Portland institution and is routinely ranked in the top 20 pizzerias in the world.

THE WORLD.

I’ve waited in the line around the block at their Portland location several times and always felt it was worth it. It’s one of the things I miss most about living up there. BUT they just recently opened a location here in Bend, and we obviously had to go. I can confirm it’s every bit as good as the OG.

playing — Severance

I didn’t want to write about Severance. It took everything in me not to write about Severance. It feels like the internet air has been so thick with Severance, and I don’t need to add to it. But good-god: a show has never captivated me so much. When I tell you I was YELLING at my TV during the finale…

Also, I’m obsessed with Trammell Tillman and that fucking marching band scene (and every scene he’s in, tbh).

obsessing over — adult gymnastics

As I expand my physical skillset, something I feel really called to explore is mixed movement and soft acrobatics. If you’re like most people and have never heard of these things, think of it as if contemporary dance, capoeira, breakdancing, gymnastics, and calisthenics had a baby.

However, explosive power and coordination, two crucial components, are things I severely lack. I also have zero gymnastic ability.

I’m such a believer that if you want to be able to do something, trial by fire is one of the best ways. I could spend time in the gym doing drills and exercises on repeat. Or…

I could go to an adult gymnastics class that I discovered my local gymnastics academy has every Tuesday morning and get absolutely humbled.

recommending — funguy

It’s not something I talk about a lot—call it fear of sounding like a goddamn hippy—but I LOVE herbalism and medicinal plants. You’re telling me that if my hormones aren’t right, or my energy is low, I’m not sleeping great, or my digestion is off, consuming the right plant will take care of it? Magical. I’ve successfully used plants time and time again, and I feel like a witch every time. There’s also something about it that makes me feel deeply connected to my ancestors (ope, my hippy is showing).

So when I started seeing ads for Funguy, which uses kanna as its active ingredient, I was intrigued.

I had never heard of kanna before, so I went down a deep research rabbit hole.

Kanna is a succulent from South Africa and is considered an empathogen, the same classification as MDMA (but legal). It’s been used by indigenous cultures for centuries to elevate mood, relieve overwhelming feelings, reduce cravings, increase focus, and help reach states of euphoria.

Color me intrigued.

I reached out to them, and they were kind enough to send me some to try. And let me tell you— it’s nice. It has a very subtle, uplifting effect, somewhere between a psilosybin and THC microdose, but also entirely distinct from either, that fades nicely into the background for whatever you’re doing.

I took different doses in different settings and scenarios, and I’d say I prefer a higher dose while casually socializing.

Especially if you’ve given up alcohol but still miss a bit of a social lubricant, I’d suggest giving it a try!

treating — chai

This month, I visited my sister and her family for my nephew’s second birthday. She lives in one of those quintessential small western towns where a lot of it is untouched from the way it was in the 1800s. There’s not a lot going on, but there is this one cafe that I visit multiple times each time I’m in town where everything is made in-house (and made well), and they have the best chai latte I’ve ever had.

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Allow me to leave you with this quote that I read the other day that has me in an actual chokehold:

I have led a toothless life […] A toothless life. I have never bitten into anything. I was waiting. I was reserving myself for later on-and I have just noticed that my teeth have gone. What’s to be done? Break the shell? That’s easily said. Besides, what would remain? A little viscous gum, oozing through the dust and leaving a glistering trail behind it.

—Jean-Paul Sartre, ****The Age of Reason

Here’s to creating a life with teeth.

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