I've been procrastinating again—paralyzed to be more accurate. It's quite common for me. Especially when some aspect of my career is going well. I like to think that I'm very prolific and productive. And, I really am sometimes. My best talent though is not music or writing or painting; it is 'feeling' busy when I'm not 'being' busy at all. It's my way of dealing with procrastination. I am one of those jack of all trades artists. I write and perform music regularly. I write fiction. I produce video. I paint. I'm a graphic artist. I speak. I teach. I've even done some of that awkward performance art in galleries. Somehow it all adds up to a regular income.
There are no plateaus. What I've learned is that: _' where ever I go, There I am"_ (I don't know who said that and I'm not going to look it up)
The Scene Of Procrastination
If you were to drop by my studio on one of those fateful weeks when I'm—most definitely—doing everything in my power to not to do what I should (want to) be doing; you may even think me to be busier than ever before. You'd look around and see piles of papers scattered and marked up. New whiteboards on the wall with a storyline or music set-list dissected with arrows, stars, and lists; broken musical instruments and studio gear in a tangled web of XLR chords. A three-foot stack of books by my desk on the floor sitting on a few unfinished drawings—and then me: sitting in my big comfortable green grandpa chair, wild-eyed, staring into the wall behind my desk which has a single chalk drawing (I found in the trash) of a young man leaning on a bar waiting for his drink (I like to think he's an alcoholic asking himself if a drink is really going to help his situation at all.)
If you viewed this procrastination scene, it might fool you. It might look as if I'd been in a whirlwind of creative energy! Truth is, I have pulled every toy and project out in a big mess on the floor. I probably just woke up from an upright snooze and quietly waiting for one of my many creative toys to speak to me... or better yet, grab me by the throat and make me do something...anything.
The Pain of Not Doing the Work
It is really a painful situation for me. I think it was Steven Pressfield who said something to the fact that it is harder to NOT do the work than to DO the work. So true... And, I probably should not bring up Steven Pressfield, if he were my creative therapist he would have shot himself years ago from frustration.
Plateaus are Empty
I don't even have a 'real' career in any of the creative endeavors that I pour myself into. I do make money but it's more like the street-vendor artist than the career-man artist. There is usually no one knocking at the door for my new novel, song recording or piece of art.
I used to have more of a career.. but then it hit me how short life is, and how many things I want to create so I built a life that could handle me just creating whatever the fuck I want to create. And, that may be a contributor to the mess I often find myself in. I do get a lot of things done. I do find some good success now and then. Yet, I also find that I run up against the same enemy over and over again: Me.
You know those plateaus we all dream of? Such as: _When I get enough money I'll... or If I could just get some fucking time, I would...
If my relationship would just settle down I could finally... _ [Fill in the blanks]
I learned something very early on and I've learned it over again ever since. I learned it because like Joni Mitchell, I've seen both sides now.
I have had good amounts of money before. In fact, I had a very good success when I first launched out of the gate. There have been eras in life where I did have the time and resources to create all I want (but I couldn't). I've had the relationships become perfectly harmonious and leave me with plenty of energy to create all I want (but I couldn't). I've also been on the other side where there was so little money I was looking up food pantries on the internet and playing my guitar on the street corner for spaghetti money. Times where there was no time for nothing, where bad relationships consumed me. But it all doesn't matter. The circumstances don't matter as much as I like to think.
Where I Go, There I Am
There are no plateaus. What I've learned is that: ' where ever I go, There I am" (I don't know who said that and I'm not going to look it up)
I say, "there is not enough time," but then—I get the time, and the same problems remain. I say, "there is not enough money," I get the money, and oddly enough, the same problems remain.
This truth about the human condition I'm about to say is strangely very popular right now and also, at the same time, loathed right now—for political reasons. The truth being that the only problem I face is right between my eyes and behind my nose. My self.
It is an unpopular idea because not everyone gets enough money, or time, freedom or perfect circumstances to realize this very real truth about us all. That is that the outward things don't matter as much as we think. All the fashionable glitter and the whole mad world is going to the compost heap anyway. What matters, and what will matter at whatever status I find myself in, is that I face my self. That seems to be clear to me—a returning, ringing, chorus in my metaphysical ears.
Our Own Personal Plot
I can be sometimes very spiritually minded, and then sometimes I'm not at all. But, I can't help but notice that there seems to be a plot line written that I don't have access to. That plot is being played out whether I like it or not. I can go to the left, or to the right, I can be successful or on the streets, and the damn story is going to play out. The circumstance is only the interesting quaint details, but the novel is about me. Just like any great story, it could be written to take place in space, or on a farm... in the city, or in World War III. That is because the great stories I've read are about the character, and who the character is—maybe more so about who the character will become. All else is just obstacles. They could come in a thousand different ways.
So what is the moral of this story? It's pretty simple... I'm supposed to be doing something else. I actually sat down to write another chapter in my fiction Novel, 'handsome freaks.' But instead, I'm writing this. ha!
The moral of the story is procrastination takes many forms. But in the end, it's personal to us all, to our own battle.
Have a good day, may your endeavors be blessed.
I'm Ezra Vancil, a musician, a writer, and artist living and working in Texas. Thanks for reading.
All Photos used are mine.