How do you start a blog after abandoning the well-intended commitment to revive it?
If I mull on that question, I might not write a word, so I’m just plowing through and writing the words. It seems weird to jump back here again, with no rhyme or reason (actually, there is a reason).
In my defence, there’s been a blog post stuck in draft mode since the beginning of the year, and it may see the light of day this month. Maybe. We’ll see.
But for now, this entry is about an experience I felt compelled to share— Media Deprivation Week.
In late September, I joined The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron, facilitated by the fabulous Reem Al Halyan. It was a leap for me to sign up for the program. I had an inkling of what it was about, and I knew it was going to probably shock my system (I’ve had friends who did it, and have shared their experiences). At the same time, my system seemed to…have lost the signal, if that makes sense. I’d been feeling the weight of feeling uncreative for a while (this abandoned blog included). I wasn’t sure if signing up would help. I always wanted to try the program but kept putting it off for multiple reasons— it wasn’t the right time; I’m not in the right headspace; it’s a busy period, I won’t be able to keep up.
There seemed to be an endless amount of excuses for not doing it. After a certain amount of reflection though (and a little push from my other creative half, Shahd), I decided to take a chance.
In a nutshull, The Artist’s Way is a 12-week program that helps in “recovering” the creative self. Creativity has been something that I’ve been struggling with for a few years now. Specifically, the feeling I’ve been struggling with is being “stuck”. Obviously, it’s not great, especially since I have experienced the Golden Days of Creativity— when I was more active, more involved in the writing community. To go from that to what felt like gagged silence, as any creative may imagine, is soul-destroying, to say the least.
In retrospect, I’m glad I took the plunge, because what did I have to lose?
Every week since taking that step has been an eye-opening experience. The program introduces two basic tools for the “recovering creatives”, which I’ve found very beneficial in small, meaningful ways. It also provides a number of weekly tasks and explorative questions to dig deep or to exercise playful curiosity, which can oscillate between fun or intense.
And then came the dreaded activity that I knew was part of the program, but somehow still snuck up on me unexpectedly— media deprivation week.
When The Artist’s Way was first written about 30 years ago, the only deprivation required was reading, but it transformed since to adapt to the times, which meant everything. All media— no reading, no TV and no social media. All of it, stopped.
Of course, the natural reaction to this was resistance. I made it clear in the group session that I wasn’t happy about it, but if it’s part of the exercise, I would abstain from media intake for 7 days. It chaffed at me. Like being forced to eat broccoli. It’s good for you, but just the thought of it brings a gag reflex.
Still, it was only for seven days. It was, I thought at the time, doable.
How the Universe must have laughed at me then, because I didn’t expect the myriad of inconveniences that would test this resolve.
Let’s start with a light anecdote: On the day the media deprivation started, the Louvre was robbed. By that evening, the memes were brilliant. It seemed so unfair to miss on so much fantastic content by the internet’s most creative minds. At least I enjoyed a few when the intense need to check on the timeline took over.
I wish things continued to be on the lighter side. But just 2 days into the deprivation, I got sick. When one is sick, they’re reduced to their most petty, basic selves. A child, one would say. And my most petty, basic self wanted to indulge in media so badly— TV, Instagram— something. Anything. (Reading wasn’t a problem because I neither had the mental or physical energy for it). Typically, during media deprivation, the intent was to replace media with actual chores around the house, which would have been perfect because I had a list of things I was putting off in favor of doomscrolling, and I was looking forward to doing them.
But when I got sick, that that went out the window. Because again, I had neither the mental or physical energy to do anything.
I did give in on the day I felt most sick though. If The Artist’s Way was about creative recovery and getting in touch with the inner creative child, well, my inner child wanted to play video games all day and nothing else. (The game of choice was The Tiny Bookshop—it was glorious).
Thirdly in this line-up of unfortunate timings— the media deprivation challenge fell on my birthday week. It’s not such a big deal, but it’s interesting how birthdays in general have become a very public affair in these ultra-modern times — you post about it, and everyone you know and don’t know, knows. They would know the day, the activities, the gifts, the people involved in making the day special. All of it.
Being sick had already dampened my enthusiasm, and I wasn’t up to celebrating much in general. But it still ended up being special thanks to friends and family who remembered and bestowed good wishes and beautiful flowers.
The hardest part of the challenge was resisting Instagram. I felt like a druggie— sneakily clicking into the app just to get that hit of a fresh timeline, a new visual post. I had to find a workaround to replace the urge, and somehow still indulge in visual posts, so I tried Pinterest, which was nice (although it did crash when the Amazon servers went down, which again, stacked really well with the luck I was already having).
That need to franticly stay connected faded by the end of the week though. It was a subtle shift, to observe nature more while driving, to be more focused on tasks (the ones I could do with the little energy I had). I didn’t realize that I was surrounded by noise until then, and that the noise became less, almost non-existent. There was a singular clarity and slowness that I haven’t experienced in a long time. I hated to admit it, but it was wonderful to revel in that type of solitude.
While it’s important to know what was going on in the world, the speed of this constant knowing, the constant churning, can be too much to handle. Pulling our time and energy into our little screens (or big screens) and just making us lose track of ourselves in the process. I found myself wishing I could keep the slowness of being disconnected. Of experiencing every second, of hearing every thought clearly, of being in the moment while I took in a breath, or appreciating fleeting moments of reflection.
It’s been almost a month since the deprivation week, and I still have my time limit set to an hour of Instagram. I still try to cut back on screen time, although there are days where I do give in just to take my mind off things. But the point is to be conscious of it; conscious of time, and how it’s spent, and why it’s being spent on such and such activity.
It’s the reason I came back to this blog— something I wasn’t sure was going to happen. In the silence, it called to me. The time not spent on my phone was time used for writing, and editing, and editing, bringing it to the finish line, perfect or not (although the ego in me hopes it’s perfect).
And here we are, for now.
Maybe I’ll explore the reason behind the silence. Maybe not. But for now, I wanted a moment, a space where I can let my words down. And pray that more words are on the way.
