A balm for the uninspired ( the grief riddled and distracted)
a prayer, a cure, or at least a dispatch to know you are not alone
The coffee isn’t hot in the pot anymore. I’ve let the banana’s rot on top of the fridge, to scared to touch them knowing their skins will flop off the second I grab the bunch connecting them to each other. I saw snowdrops out in late February on the lawn of the hospital. Everything feels greyer against the poured concrete walls of Toronto.
I know spring is here because I feel restless.
My attention feels all over the place because it is all over the place. I know momentum and inertia are required for me to stop and start. Something closer to an act of god needs to come down and move the needle for me. To work I need a focus whole, the specific set conditions of cafe, music, noise cancelling headphones, at least three beverages (classic water, coffee and secret third thing– naturally) for the machine to generate. There is also weather, time, what I ate for breakfast, how much I looked at my phone yesterday, how much I am looking at my phone today, the most horrible headline I’ve ever read this morning since the last more horrible headline I read yesterday morning that all go into my ability to sit. Create. Shower. Feed myself. Really anything to just move.
I know I am uninspired because I am distracted. I am supposed to be doing something else right now other than writing.
I don’t think feeling uninspired is wrong. I think is needed. I also don’t think your or I are “blocked”, I think (to really simplify it) we are living in capitalism . I know when I am in a season of creative spring I feel uncomfortable. Anything to distract me from the feeling of stickyness I feel inside myself. A lifetime of abandoning myself makes me really good at avoiding my feelings. Any idea becomes my saviour. Anything to distract me from my feet in the mud, hoping that if I follow any random spark that comes my way I can grab onto that long enough to pull me out of the mud. A life line of ideas. Grabbing onto anthing. Instead of possibly just… sitting here.
It feels uncomfortable because it is. In our world of IG reels and quick fixes I think the expectation is when we feel this way we have to fix it. Always something to tinker with. Because being uninspired cannot be natural and it is something to fix and you or I aren’t good unless we produce. All things I know are untrue. But linger in that sticky mud feelings.
While spinning in my kitchen yesterday I thought about grief. The closer I get to feeling grief in my body the closer to joy I feel. When my Grandma died all I could see where the magnolia blossoms around me. Clouding my vision. I hit my hand on the kitchen table dancing. Not realizing why my hand hurt till a bruise showed up between my knuckles. Even bruises look beautiful when they bloom.
Actually, I know being uninspired just as must a part of the creative journey as any other cycle.
The stickyness of a transition feeling. Roots in mud praying for a little sun. But roots don’t tinker with an outcome. they sit in mud knowing mud has nutrients too. That stillness provides just as much information as any amount of growth stretching towards the sun.
I cannot control the greyness of the sky, the bananas ripening or the stickiness of the mud. But I can find stillness and peace in just sitting with growth and grief and joy of it all. Thats creativity too.
FINDINGS (you can tell I am “uninspired” because all I did was consume art this week and tbh I am loving it – I think you can tell when I am creating a lot and the findings section is sparse. Many blessings for our creative cycles!!!)
This straight up pissed me off to read as a lifelong multitasker (and like kinda slay multi tasker TBH) but I also know that nothing drains my battery faster than “multi tasking” aka being a distracted freak for day.
Cognitive Switching Penalty 🚦This is now an Alice Cappelle stan page, Body politics: self-diagnosis against biopower
Nerokind (my new fave substack, duh) from
has an open call right now. MY SWEET NEURODIVERGENT CREATORS RUN ON OVER!I’m choosing to love my life now by
POWERFUL WORDS AND WORK 🥹For my fellow musical theatre nerds, Jokes on Eddie always makes me feel seen
I have an essay out in Yolk literary mag this month, buy yourself a copy and indulge in some art.
I love you all, many blessings for the uninspiring and grief of it all
xx
Phoebe
*typos are left to reflect the fury passion and 3D humaness of being a passionate freak in the world – and you know not a robot *beep boop*
if you love The Creators Dispatch forward this to a friend who might like to subscribe or share an excerpt on social media and tag me @phoebetay.lor xo WORD OF MOUTH WILL ALWAYS BE THE SWEETEST MOST SPECIAL WAY TO SHARE ART, LOVE, BEING OK, AND CREATION IN THE UNIVERSE!!! ✨
I’m behind on emails and comments, but thanks so much for sharing Neurokind! 🖤