January

If January were a plant, it would be one of those spiky bushes you plant under windows to keep burglars out. If it were a dessert, it would be a bunt cake–stiff, round, and slightly sweet. 

I remember as a kid being utterly depressed with January.  Five more months until Summer vacation and 12 more until Christmas would come back.  As an adult, I believe that almost every month is like January.  I have been out of school for three years now, but I am still learning this new pace of life that is not based on semesters.  And I have to admit, I’m not a fan of it.  

In college, each semester granted me the opportunity to start over.  New schedule.  New professors.  New classmates.  But in a job, it is the oddest thing because there is no end point.  There is no graduation.  One day you may leave, but unless you retire, no one will be throwing you a party.

And all of this forces me to go back to the concept of occupation at its’ origin.  I actually contemplate this a lot, and I ask “How did God intend for us to work?”  I’ve said it dozens of times in older posts, but I believe God created us to work and to create.  Sometimes, if you are blessed, working and creating will be enough to sustain your lifestyle, but other times, we must tease the two apart and create for sheer pleasure and work to support our creativity. 

When civilizations started to form, people were hunters and gatherers.  Then everyone began specializing in certain areas, and people thought this was a good idea.  So the women started making baskets because they had small, nimble fingers and men were generally stronger, so they made weapons and hunted animals.  People started to figure out that farming was a good way to support a community and barter for other goods and services.  Finally, currency became the norm.  Because people didn’t need to farm and they could easily access potatoes and corn from others who farmed in the community, groups of people abandoned farming altogether.  Instead, they became doctors and innkeepers–specializing in their own trades.  They worked close to home and usually with their families. 

So what does this brief history tell us?  Work is born out of necessity. And if we look at creating and working as threads on the same twine–creativity is born of necessity as well. 

I haven’t been suffering from writer’s block over the last few months, if you were wondering.  Instead, I’ve suffered from paralyzing fear.  Fear that my work isn’t good enough.  That my creativity is not enough to sustain me.  That these are merely words I’ve strung together, and nothing else. 

This kind of thinking is quicksand for a writer.  But in this cold, sterile month of January, I will pull on the rope that is offered to me and begin to take up my cross again.  It would be all too easy for me to tell God I just want a mediocre life.  I just want to work 40 hours a week and not worry about this book.  But I know that true joy and fulfillment come when you live the call to create.  All artists (which is everyone) are born with a hole that can only be filled temporarily.  To get close to our creator, we attempt to create and for a few brief moments we feel satisfied.  But like all things, it is fleeting, and once again, we scramble to create something new and meaningful.