Don’t call it a comeback

Just got caught in an eddy.

Hello out there- if you’re still out there, that is. It’s been a minute.

It’s unlikely, with the sheer volume of inputs most of us are plugged into, that anyone actually missed these missives- but I’ve missed them- or at least I’ve missed the adjacent sense of purpose, of clarity, the urgency that accompanied this Substack project launch. 

I don’t think those of us in the creative fields are uniquely vulnerable to the whims of the muses- I believe we all, no matter our chosen profession, know the somatic sensation that accompanies ethereal collaboration. In turn, undoubtedly, we also know the dreaded eddy; one moment you’re buoyantly shooting rapids, yawlping at the wonder of it all- so consumed with navigating swift waters at top speed there’s little space to question the genesis of momentum. 

And the next moment you’re deposited unceremoniously into a quiet eddy, aimlessly circling its perimeter, drifting. You’ve no idea what landed you there, exiled from the intoxicating effortlessness and directionality of riding a swift current- but the harder you work to engineer your exodus, the more forcefully you seem to be spewed back into its stagnant undertow. 

photo by Hannah Koehler

And although I don’t believe this phenomenon targets artists specifically, I do think those of us in the creative fields are perhaps uniquely crippled by the sudden abandonment of divine collusion- we have little framework to rely on; phoning in creative work feels awful and often takes 10x effort for -10 results. It’s actually physically painful, and simultaneously nobody- NOBODY- wants to hear anyone whine about any of this.

In the loneliest of eddys, the surrounding canyon walls rise so high that they block all light, the stars that normally accompany a dark night are obfuscated, and the undertow drones a mounting siren song. 

I’ve been in this eddy, friends. I’ve never had words entirely fail me, or me fail them- but in the last few months, I have had nothing but survival on my mind- not a drop of juice for anything but the demands of metabolizing each moment. 

Forgive the abuse of metaphor, but here we go: Turns out it takes a significant storm to blow one out of the doldrums.

A doozy of a storm rolled in for me last week- a gully-washer, so to speak. I can’t claim to have been miraculously washed back into the current- perhaps I’m on an island now, rather than in an eddy- but I get the feeling from here at least there’s the potential to scout a manageable portage. 

Ok. Water current metaphor officially abused. Moving on. 

We were contacted months ago by Brene Brown’s team- Brene (how on earth do you type an accent over that e?) has been basically radio silent for months as well- fans of hers may have noticed the disturbance in the force- but she was crafting a return, of sorts- refurbishing her website, dialing in some new offerings. She was wanting to feature artists she loved, and wanted to include us. What a goddamn honor. 

^^ (photo by Wynn Myers)

We gave the interview for this project so long ago now I can’t remember when it was- and no, I didn’t get to chat with Brene Herself, although I can’t help but hope to have that moment someday (although I am a walnut-hearted cynic, Brene cracks me wide open). Her team sent over a stellar journalist, a photographer, we went back and forth with interview corrections, and everything was “in the can”, as the industry folk say, long ago. 

I was often curious when the particular swoosh of whatever its publication might bring would blow in. But at the same time that I was excited to share accolades from someone I admire, I was simultaneously stuck in the aforementioned eddy, and genuinely terrified that I’d be discovered down there. 

Last week, Brene re-launched back into a more public-facing era, as well as announcing the BAK edit she included us in, with this gorgeous blog post. Its publication, in flagrant synchronicity, coincided precisely with the eye of my personal shit-storm; exactly when I felt most disembodied from the person interviewed months prior.

Turns out Brene had found herself in an eddy as well. And friends, though not all the particulars of Brene’s life experience and mine are identical-lort lort how I wept upon reading her words, so close to the bone did they hit. I felt she’d found my letters, and read each one out loud, so to speak. 

I didn’t read her post when it was first published- life is full, even when you’re in an eddy. It’s fuller, actually, or takes much more energy to move through- because the smallest task becomes turgid with the discharge of depression. I didn’t read it until a friend who didn’t even know I’d been included in the BAK edit, but who did know about the storm I was weathering, sent it as a lifeline. 

“Surrender is the only path to triumph”, quoth Ms. Brown. I opted to take her advice.

The pull quote she highlighted of mine, which was about the importance of Not Taking Things Personally, was particularly prescient as well, and the symbiosis of the two aphorisms has proven medicinal.

*derp alert ^^ (photo by Wynn Myers)

So here we are. There’s more to this story, and I might actually get around to telling some of it someday. In the meantime let me proudly link to the interview published on Brene’s website. They did a much better job of editing my tendency abuse metaphors, so it’s short and sweet, I promise.

And I’m looking forward to meeting you back here soon. I’ve never been one to shy away from a bit of type 2 adventure, so a portage sounds kind of fun.