For someone who belabors the value of enjoying the process equal to the product, I sure have had a difficult time doing it.
Not all the time, but lately, with this book (grumble), it’s been hard not to focus on the end product! Every stumbling block makes me want to give up and has me questioning whether I should even bother with this project.
Inevitably, after sulking for an hour or a week, I get back up and go at it again.
I’d like to say I’ve been incredibly patient with myself, compassionate even, but in truth, I’ve spent a lot of time criticizing myself for not knowing what I don’t know.
That’s the thing about focusing on the process. It’s not all going to be fun in the sun because anytime we do something new, we will screw up. But comfort isn’t the point when it comes to learning and growing.
Just this morning, I was talking with a friend about the pains of growing up, leaving home, and learning what independence actually means. As parents, we commiserated about how we want to protect our children from struggle, and while we agreed that it’s hard to tame the mama bear, there’s also value in the struggle.
There’s an educator’s term: “zone of proximal development,” or ZPD, in which you present just enough of a challenge to make a student focus and work hard but not so much challenge that they get overwhelmed and give up.
This is where the best learning happens.
Trying to publish this book has not been a ZPD-optimized activity. In fact, I’d wager to guess that I’m a good 10,000 markers away from my ZPD. I’m so far away from my ZPD that I’m not entirely sure I’m actually learning from the process.
But some events are like that. Emergencies, for example, cannot be learned from at the moment. And when we max out our capacity to absorb more information or try to apply our limited knowledge to a new situation, overwhelm sets in, and, at least in my case, I shut down.
This struggle, this push, and pull, is exhausting, frustrating, overwhelming, and downright maddening. BUT even then, it doesn’t have to be in vain, so long as we get back up again. It doesn’t matter how much time passes between when we got knocked down and when we got back up. The point is we got back up.
So as the winter solstice approaches and “true” winter sets in, consider what struggles you’ve been tackling and if it’s time to rest.
Make space for your mind and body to return to balance, incorporating all your prior struggles into a deeper understanding of yourself and the world.
Here’s an example: back in the day, not so long ago really, photos had to be put in a chemical bath to develop. You’d sit in a dark room with just a red light, and the chemical smell would be so overpowering it would make my eyes water. But if I let the photo rest in that bath long enough, what was once a blank page, magically became an image.
You also need time to develop your skills. Growth cannot come without rest, and it’s also impossible if we remain stagnant. Striking a balance between the two is our best shot at maintaining a sustainable learning pace without burning out.
All living things, besides humans, know to rest and recover during the winter months. And whether we like to admit it or not, we have more in common with the deer and chickadees than with that device you’re probably reading this post on right now. We need to do more than turn ourselves off and on again to feel restored.
It’s okay to set down your struggles. Trust me, they won’t go anywhere. And when you are feeling more rested, you just might find that they seem more manageable.
And so, during this last month of 2022, it’s time to take my own advice. Time for me to set down my hammer and let be what will be. The mess that is my book publishing process (can you hear my hair turning grey while you read this) won’t go anywhere, and I need a break.
You deserve the same.
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