Busy

A friend recently posted on a New York Times article on busyness. While I understood it in the context of her own values (as a slow-foodie, crafter and a homesteader), I thought that it touched on major arteries of our society that resonated with me. But I felt that it tapped into the major truths of society, with the wrong spin. The article more or less critiqued the over-scheduled scenario which comprises most peoples' lives, indicating that it was ambition that drove people, and that they were not "smelling the roses" because of this over-scheduled state.

See, I am one of those people who is "busy-busy." I do find myself scheduling in loved ones for next week. And while I do have evening hours at work, it is mostly because of commitments that are what the author of this article would view as optional. But.

My college painting professor said to our class, "Society only creates as many artists as it needs." He talked about how mechanized and detached our society has become, and how it drives people to seek connection in the arts or creative pursuits. He stated, "The health of a society is indirectly proportional to the number of artists it produces, and our society has the greatest number of creatives in history." I believe that this busyness that is becoming "normal" is actually a good sign for consciousness awakening, bad sign for the state of our jobs and society.

People are seeking out creative outlets to strive, yes, for ambition, but not simply to compete, or least in my case, but to find meaning. I am grateful daily for having a career that lets me help people. I am a guide in someone's academic career. But there is a wide area of daily work that I fear does not truly provide value, or "matter," as the author says. Except in art. Except there.

There, a trance turning cape can make a blind child gasp with wonder. I'll never forget my own lesson in the power of painting.

I visited the rooms of Rembrandts in the British Museum while on vacation in London in 2003, excited to see skill, to see the things that underlie ambition: the swashbuckler strokes, the rich glazes, the draftsmanship. I wasn't expecting just the image of a small, thoughtful boy, Rembrandt's son, Titus, to simply communicate with me, to the point that I was fortified and also brought to tears. All I wanted was eye contact with this soul, this soul remembered by painting.

I think that many of us are indeed crushed, and seeking soulful experience that means something. I agree that our society is too ego-driven and ambition-focused. However meaning is something we have to strive harder to create for ourselves amid that crush. That is why that yoga lesson, that cooking class, the knitting circle, that solace of the studio may be the way that we are all, in our own way, "saving the life that is our own" in the words of Alice Walker.