We're Just Doing This Right Now

gettin' snafued by 'what's next?'

dear creators,

Speaking to those of you who have children or have worked with them— when you start something or just arrive somewhere, how long before they ask, “what are we doing after this?”?

And to anyone out there who avoids children—how long after you begin something do you find your own mind asking, “what do I need to do after this?”

During my very first week of guiding children’s ‘arts ventures’ this summer, the asking “what’s next?” proneness was totally rampant. I would be in the middle of introducing a new process and immediately someone would pipe up with, “what are we doing after this? Even when I did tell them what we’d be doing next, they wouldn’t listen— they’d just ask me again five minutes later or say, “how much longer ’til we (do that next thing)?

Over and over I found myself saying, “We’re just doing this right now.” It was to the point where I was like, dang, I need a shirt that says this so I can just point to it.

So I made that shirt:

(created through a cyanotype process)

I can think of a few reasons why we chronically ask, what’s next?. There’s a practical component, for sure; it’s sensible to know what’s on the horizon so we can get necessary shit done and relax in this moment…or we might wanna brace ourselves for some impending challenge.

We could also be bored or struggling with the present thing and wanna know if something more fun is coming. I’m sure there are various other legit reasons that haven’t occurred to me (and there’s some I don’t feel like getting into) but what I actually wanna hone in on is the incessant and unsettled looking-ahead that’s going on.

This was pretty evident in the way my students would rush through everything just to get to the next thing and then burn through that— as if they weren’t even in their bodies. I was like, hey, we’re not just doing worksheets here, people.

So a big part of each week of our ventures was practicing slowing down and giving our full attention to this moment. It helps that many of the creative processes I introduced required looking slowly and carefully and then chatting about our discoveries.

We were basically cultivating patience. Facing and processing our feelings, observations, thoughts, questions and odd sensations right now takes some getting used to. We also talked about caring enough about our work and play to be really present with it, otherwise it was just a waste of our time (and materials). Kids actually really get this.

The whole thing made me hyper-aware of my own what’s next-ing (you know, because we adults tend to intellectualize wisdom and then continue to act against it). To the point where I found myself answering in my head, we’re just doing this right now. You may ask why I’d answer with a we’re versus an I’m (just doing this right now)—all I can say is that the we’re feels more true and less lonely (or narcissistic) to me.

My students started saying this, as well. Some of them felt it helped them relax—that’s my feeling, too.

Speaking for myself, I don’t think it matters whether I blame the hurry of society, the thrill of the chase (never satisfied with a catch), the need to get many things done to feel worthy, trying to squeeze meaning out of quantity vs. quality, etc. I just gotta remind myself— we’re just doing this right now. I’m gonna take my time and pay attention to: this, right here.

So granted there are various practical aspects of planning what’s next, would you agree that it’s easy to get snafued by too much looking forward? Not to mention the fact that we gotta deal with the unexpected despite our best laid plans. The more consistent I am in the moment, the less likely I am to freak out at the unexpected— because I’ve grown accustomed to calmly facing what’s alive and right in front of me versus an idea that I pinned in the future.

Have you heard of Seneca? Lucius Annaeus Seneca (commonly known as Seneca or Seneca the Younger), was a Roman Stoic thinker and writer who was born over 2,000 years ago. I was once gifted a book titled, Seneca; On the Shortness of Life; Life is Long if you Know How to Use it (Penguin Books). I enjoy this book and get kinda bummed about it because after reading it I feel like we’re still in the same goo goo gaga stage of consciousness. Anyway, Seneca said still-relevant things like,

Life is very short and anxious for those who forget the past, neglect the present and fear the future.

And,

For love of bustle is not industry, —it is only the restlessness of a hunted mind.

I’m thinkin’ maybe some of those Romans would’ve been into my shirt.

Hope y’all felt that Blue Super Moon, yesterday,

-Corrie