If you follow this, you know I write in blocks. I write a lot. And then I don’t. I don’t remember who said it, but one writer said he was always writing but he doesn’t always write DOWN. Well, shit. If we afford ourselves that privilege, I am ALWAYS writing. I always have something I’m mulling over, that I want to get down, something I jot down as a reminder. Mostly though life takes over. Mostly lately those thoughts don’t go out in the air, or the world,they just get absorbed into me. Occasionally they pop back up, but in general, they just become an evolved part of how I view and exist in the world.
The point now, if there is one, is that this is very alienating. This is very lonely. This is where my being is being put into words so that I can understand them, but my subconscious self is the only one who is interacting with that being. Not even my cognizant self. Even I never fully understand what I am talking about, because I no longer have TIME. And I don’t think I’m the only one. I think I historically have given outlets to these words, these images, these movements, this art of being.
We as a society are time poor, and even though I’ve spent the better part of my adult life railing against this notion, I somehow ended up here. Without time for contemplation, for self, for others. I am productive, and the wage work I do is intentional and important, but it does not give me space to exist.
So what to do? Here we are again, back in 11th grade, talking to a friend, asking ourselves why we work. To buy gas to put in the car to get to work. The answers are different now, but the notion behind them are not. My three year old told me a couple months ago that I had to go to work to get the money to live in our house. It’s not that he’s wrong, but I don’t want him to be right.
So I’m working on slowing down. Figuring out a way to backtrack to the self who had time (but not 2 kids), space (but not a place to grow my own food) and not much else. This may mean I get fired, even though I am linked to a worker-owner cooperative. Because this means being vocal about what a liberated economy looks like. This means challenging everything we have internalized about capitalism.
I believe in collective and community power. I believe in economic justice. This includes racial justice. This includes reparations. I don’t have all the answers, so for now I’m just starting with this one. I’m going to give my self more time, and I’m going to get back to digging all these words out of my subconscious. Then maybe we can get back to the business of setting things right.