This report was sent through my 2018 dead-zoned tiny letter account March 17, 2020, and I’m resending it now, here to keep these lessons fresh on my mind, mentally re-restarting another push forward by springtime. It’s now far more important to use my time to build sustainable methods of my individual, personal definition of success than it is to continue to dance for Big Business. I care about what's going on, in the deeper, longer, weirder stories, and I know with confidence I’m not wrong or alone in seeking out grander timelines, and an authentic community base more than perpetuating an economy of clout with my time or work or person for external success. Readers receive glimmering books in a lifetime that arrive to them at the right time, for the reader's state of mind, and How to Do Nothing still holds a blocking space in my approach for everyday thinking, working and time management.
Original post featuring my green crochet blanket my Mom made for me in winter 2020; arrived just in time.
Six months ago I purchased How to Do Nothing when I was overwhelmed, and needed a mind like Jenny Odell’s to snap me into a new form. The book patiently waited for me to be ready, waited for me to allow myself the space and time to slow down. For two weeks, I woke up an hour early for this book and my morning coffee. (I had a new coffee machine to celebrate; I consider it a gift to myself.) Last week, I took it to work like an emotional support book, as if it was there to reassure me I would be mentally prepared for the notion of solitude. On lunch hours I took it outside on the third floor balcony of our office building that overlooks South Lamar. Between these two reading experiences, I cannot count the number of times I thought *every person I know needs to read this book right now*, for some reason or many. Or, I stopped reading to notice strangers in their cars, walking their dogs, lovers holding hands, or just walking along. Holding the book in my hands created a bubble-like feeling — Inside it, I was siloed enough to think deeply. From inside it, I could peer out.
In the introduction, Odell proposes that “in a mythology of productivity and progress, (people are) unable not only to rest but simply to see where they are.” A few pages earlier she states, “solitude, observation and simple conviviality should be recognized not only as ends in and of themselves, but inalienable rights belonging to anyone lucky enough to be alive.”
In six tidy, incredibly researched chapters, Odell marches forward with examples and models for how people resist, retreat, meditate, or hold their own attention. (This book also has a sharp focus on how our economy capitalizes on our attention, which I might explore in writing another time. For now I’ll simply add the note "Not me. Us."). Her work and compassion make it easy to believe her book could win over any reader’s stubborn inner-monologue pushing for an optimized lifestyle.
How to Do Nothing punctuates my quest for how to convince myself to stop like a nail in the coffin of my over-scheduled life.
“Having recourse to periods of and spaces for 'doing nothing’ is of utmost importance, because without them we have no way to think, reflect, heal, and sustain ourselves - individually or collectively.” Next she quotes activist Audre Lorde’s sense of self-care, “caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.”
Certain books can move the right reader at the right time, and this book will be locked in my memory for the way it is helping me think and take care during social-distancing, self-quarantines or isolation, and all of the ways we are trying to flatten the curve worldwide.
In her weekly newsletter, Ann Freidman wrote, “My panic is cheap by comparison. I think the question for me, and others who are not directly threatened, is not only how to remain on the side of caution. It’s how to live on the line between caution and courage. Not the courage to board an optional international flight or lick a door handle or something. But the courage to find ways to continue to show up for my community.” She added on Instagram, “It’s how to also find concrete ways to show up for people whose lives and livelihoods are at risk. I don’t think we can do that if we panic. But with caution and courage, I think we can.”
*This* is what my mind is looping on — A daily balancing act of slowing my self is in tandem with my (already) manic energy welling up and bursting into messages to people I love, on-going journal entries, online orders to the small businesses I care to support, and more effort to be present in online community. I’m a single person, but my attention and care matter. Each of us has an opportunity to open ourselves up for personal growth, that could positively affect the energy you bring to the world, and to communal growth for how we care for each other moving forward.
“Tiny spaces can open up small spaces, small spaces can open bigger spaces. If you can afford to pay a different kind of attention, you should.” Jenny Odell
If you’re at home, or spending more time in solitude, I highly recommend checking in with your local indie bookstore to help support their business with an online order. Many indies are offering free shipping or curbside pick-ups, like Book People. Bonus, this helps support the artist Jenny Odell too! If you need to use your resources elsewhere right now, look online for a digital copy from your local library! This book is worth your attention, if like me you can’t think of a better time to rest into reading. How to Do Nothing could help you think, slow, stop or just validate you in taking a deep, deep breathe.
Sent to you from my tiny studio in Austin, Texas. Take care!
Her follow-up book, Saving Time: Discovering a Life Beyond the Clock is here! Looking forward to reading it soonish!
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