Just Because You Can Doesn’t Mean You Should

For the Worldbuilders Ep. 042

R.S.V.P. sculptures activated by Senga Nengudi and Maren Hassinger in “Performance Piece—Nylon Mesh and Maren Hassinger,” (1977) (Photo by Harmon Outlaw, Pearl C. Wood Gallery, Los Angeles. Courtesy RedLine Gallery.)(Source: ⁠Hyperallergic⁠) Image Description: A black and white photograph of two black figures wearing black leotards performing with nylon pantyhose nailed to the wall, stretching them to capacity with their bodies.

“Think. Never write without thinking. First think about how it might happen. Then think about what else might happen. Something else will always happen. That’s why you should only do small things. You can keep control better, writing a long ladder of little truths.”

— Octavia Butler, Mortal Words Fragment. Cited in Letters to the Future: Black Women/Radical Writing by Erica Hunt and Dawn Lundy Martin

Dear Worldbuilder,

What would your work schedule look like if you prioritized the needs of your body?

This is just one of the many questions I ask in this week’s podcast episode where I call myself out on the ways I’m still learning how to put boundaries on my play and parameters on my passion. Turns out dream jobs require time to dream (and sleep). On the eve of spring I invite us to strategically prune inside the creative ecosystem of our practice.

There’s a consistent theme I’m noticing on the other side of my season of surrender. When I’m not being particularly nice to myself I’ll notice myself get frustrated with my capacity. Trying to figure out why I’m not able to “lock in” like I use to, put in the same amount of hours as I used to, produce as much or as quickly as I used to — both inside my job (of stewarding Seeda School) and my art practice (which sometimes consists of writing science fiction in the bathtub or sculpting clay to uncover artifacts from a parallel universe). When inside this frustration with my capacity I have to remind myself, before my season of surrender, I was operating in complete misalignment with my desire and the pace of my body. The fuel that was charging me was often external validation which means, at times, I was operating in self-sacrificing ways. Exerting domination over my creative spirit and body — it’s no wonder I was more productive. I was constantly dissociating and ignoring my needs, working through meals and feasting on praise instead.

Problem was I was doing every job besides my most important one — prioritizing the needs of my body.

My need for movement.

My need for breaks.

My need for rest.

Inside Today’s Podcast Episode

I share the 3 questions I’m asking as I engage in some spring cleaning inside my creative practice:

1. How will I honor my neurodivergence with my boundaries?

2. What am I pruning this season?

3. What would it look like to feel worthy of ease?

Inside today’s podcast episode, I also share 3 things I COULD be doing in my practice and why I’ve chosen to prune their possibility. Most days, I go to sleep at night knowing I did my level best. This doesn’t mean I’m giving a level 10 effort everyday. It just means I gave what I had to give and made sure there was enough to give to myself. This isn’t a perfect science, so how might we create supportive strategies for seasonal pruning?

Strategy, Tip, Affirmation to Remember

How might we learn to prioritize our capacity over our possibility? In this episode I go over the strategy behind the reason you will most likely not see me release an offer outside of the Seed A World Retreat for the next few years. Tune in for the strategy, tip and affirmation to remember inside this week’s episode.

I remember, there is grief in there being so much work to do and not being able to do it all. I remember, my black queer flesh has been made to be elastic in ways that serve the imperial order. I grieve this too and now direct the potent power of my elasticity to bring this shit down — helping us make sure we all know our roles, our skills, when it’s time to build the world anew. We remember, if there’s nothing we’re mourning, odds are there’s nothing we’re releasing.

We remember the “metaphysics of interdependence”¹ wants us whole, doesn’t need us resentful and deeply desires for us to only show up inside choreography that is pleasurable to sustain. We release the stories of scarcity, remembering they’re all lies². We grab on to the “long ladder of little truths” instead, dropped down by generations before us.

So be it, see to it, breathe through it,

Ayana

1. “…The imperative of making the world in which we live intelligible to ourselves and each other — in other words, teaching ourselves. Because within the archaeologies of dominance resides the will to divide and separate. Pedagogies points to the reciprocal investments we must make to cross over into a metaphysics of interdependence. In the same way Paulo Freire narrated our ontological vocation to become more fully human, these pedagogies assemble a similar ontological imperative, which pertains to learning and teaching. And since there is no crossing that is ever undertaken once and for all, this ontological imperative of making the world intelligible to ourselves is, of necessity, an enterprise that is ongoing” — M. Jacqui Alexander, Pedagogies of Crossing: Meditation on Feminism, Sexual Politics, Memory and the Sacred (2005), pg. 6

2. Sonya Renee Taylor reminds us stories rooted in scarcity are lies and invites us to root inside abundance instead.