I have discovered (again, because really, most discoveries are a "refinding" of something we either lost or forgot) that healthy distractions are a wonderful tool in the process of letting go. (Find myself in a pretentious moment with how I should phrase this next part. Sometimes, I crawl into my consciousness and debate whether or not I need to appease my "audience" with well crafted sentences of only action verbs and clearly defined nouns. Not only that, but action verbs and clearly defined nouns most people would not use. The appearance of "craftiness" and "betterness." On with the show!)
I returned to writing Tech Support a movie script I wrote a year ago. In an attempt to receive funding for the film, I have been charged with the task of writing a few scripts for short films to create buzz and potential donors. For the better part of a year I have avoided writing fiction.
The process drains me. Mentally, physically, spiritually, and emotionally. I put every aspect of myself into the stories I write. The result: after I complete a novel, novella, or script, I need nearly a year of rest. Maybe that's a bit of an embellishment, but it sure as hell feels that way.
When overwhelmed or overburdened (Sometimes I like redundancy) my mind wants to shut off. Twist the valve and turn on the tube. Eyes glaze and blur with blankness. Problem: this mindlessness becomes habitual. I become obsessed with a show. A game. Cards. Money required for the requisition of said material. The physical becomes my goal.
Prime time for depression and anxiety to set in. (At this time I realize the title above may not accurately describe this post.)
The past two weeks I have blogged about letting go of the material, with the hope of delving into the emotional, mental, and spiritual at some point. All of you who have attempted to give up any addiction or habit of the physical persuasion knows this to be a great difficulty.
The battle against the material, cards in particular, was not so difficult this week. No surprise the lack of difficulty occurred the same week I began writing fiction (seriously and not in whimsical way) again. Normally, I would have sat on the couch, scouring ebay and other card vendors for not just good deals but amazing deals. Deals so amazing I would be an idiot to not spend bill money on cards. Troubling right? Should be easy to resist without the cash flow, right? I laugh my ass off when presented with that response. We the people of first world nations are bred to buy. Conditioned to rely on the physical realm. If we can perceive it with the five senses, we must worship it.
If you couldn't tell, I'm bothered by the idea of "sole reliance" on the material. And now I'm ranting. (Side note: I could edit out this portion and act as if it did not exist. But I want to keep it all in. Save my editing for the books.)
Edit: Want to make something clear. The material does not need to be something we purchase all the time. Sometimes even wasting time obsessing over the material is something to let go.