Permission to Retreat
The Wrong Season But the Right Time
I’m prepping for hibernation. While tender young shoots pop up through the soil and new energy fills the air like drifting cherry blossom petals, I’m being pulled into my cocoon. Ready to surround myself with stacks of books and journals, pen poised in fingertips, lessons queued up online.
I’m taking a study break, but the kind where you stop what you’re doing in order to study, not to get away from studying. A spring break, but one that lasts the whole season of spring, not just one week near Easter.
It’s time for me to reboot. (But I’m giving one last push before I retreat, so please read to the end!)
The Itch
The term “seven-year itch” normally refers to a romantic relationship that’s gone a bit stale, causing one partner to get antsy and scan the environment for greener pastures. In my case, it’s the relationship with my business — or with business in general — that’s got me agitated, unsettled. It’s not like I want to break up with All Hands Art, exactly, but we need to reassess: Do we have the same goals? Are we still compatible? In what ways is this thing working, and how is it not?
Turns out it was precisely seven years ago that I conjured All Hands Art into existence, so maybe there’s something to The Itch after all.
The word “sabbatical” is a healthier, more proactive version of The Itch. It’s a rest in the seventh year after six years of working, occurring most often in teaching professions. Time for study, travel, or personal projects. So maybe there’s a natural ebb and flow happening here and not just irritability.
Although it might look like play, an artist’s work is still production. Writing is still output, deeply sourced, and it takes a toll. Me and my work have become so intertwined that it’s hard to know what stepping away would even look like. So during my sabbatical, I want to try a few things out.
My Experiment, Part One
I’m curious to see if I can get free from The Gaze.
As a sensitive person and Recovering People Pleaser, it’s hard for me not to absorb the energy of those around me, whether I’m aware of it or not. It’s a struggle to even know what I feel sometimes — despite priding myself on transparency and emotional honesty — because I may be overly tuned in to what other people are feeling, reflecting that instead. I want to follow the beat of my own drum, but I can’t always hear it over the ambient noise.
As a business owner, where the whole point is to sell people things they want or need, there’s even more incentive to pay attention to the energy out there. It’s a complicated dance, trying to follow your heart while also staying viable financially.
During my sabbatical I’d like to explore the boundaries of The Gaze and gain more awareness of the grip it has on me. See if I can loosen it a smidge or learn how to block it out when necessary.
Here are some examples of how I experience The Gaze and what freedom from it might be like. See if you can relate.
After several years of taking yoga classes in a large studio space (which I very much enjoyed), mid-pandemic I began practicing alone each morning. After a few months I noticed something: I was able to experience my body from the inside, noticing what movements felt good without concern for how they looked from the outside, to others. This brought me a sense of connection with my body that I vaguely remember last feeling as a 10 year-old doing cartwheels on the backyard lawn. Unselfconsciousness + pure physical joy = Freedom from The Gaze — in this case The Male Gaze, The Gaze of Comparison, and The Gaze of Judgment (“How Do I Look to You When I Do This? And How About This?” and “Am I Doing This Right?”)
For artists, freedom from The Gaze is called a flow state, or being in the zone. Athletes know this condition, too, as does anyone who has become so absorbed in their work that they lose all sense of time and space. There is only presence and zero separation between “you” and the activity you’re engaged in. Because I am an artist who sells things I make, and who offers my creative services to people who value my ability to make things (or make things up), it can be hard to disengage from The Gaze. In this case it’s The Gaze of the Buyer. The Capitalist Gaze. The Gaze of “Will Anyone Want to Buy This Thing I’m Making, This Thing I’m Offering?” I’d like to dislodge from that and see if I can make things just because I want to. Spend a little more time in the zone.
When I’m writing here, I’m obviously having a conversation with you, the reader. I’m aware of your gaze, and that makes sense in this context. But even when I’m writing in my journal, part of my brain is aware that it may someday fall into the hands of a person who is not me. My children or my partner might stumble upon it when I’m out of the room, or after my death. So there’s a censor at work, and almost always an editor, too, noting what I could have said more clearly, or fixing spelling errors. I’d like to wiggle a tiny bit freer from The Gaze. I’ll call this one The Gaze Peering Over My Shoulder.
One more thing I want to release for a while is not a gaze but an impulse. Maybe it’s decades of teaching that honed this response, or maybe it’s the arrogance of whiteness and patriarchy, but I find it hard these days to learn things without immediately planning how I can turn around and teach them. I’d like to try just sinking into studenthood for a while. Absorb material for the sake of learning. Let new ideas become part of me, rather than partially digesting and regurgitating them. (Sorry for that visual.)
My Experiment, Part Two
The next part of this experiment (and by the way, most of this is just becoming clear to me as I write it, which is why I write — to figure out what I think and what I need) is around addressing my “support deficit.” I heard a sentence this week that resonated with me, like aha, bingo! Paraphrased, it went something like this:
Everyone needs people in their life who see more potential in them than they can see in themselves.
I have had these people appear at key times, and they have elevated me to places I didn’t know I could go. They offered to show my artwork in their cafe when I’d never done that before (thanks, Gary!) or suggested that I could paint murals when I’d never done that before (thanks, Dawn!) There have been others. It’s such an important role. 🙏🏽
I try to be one of those people for you. I truly believe you are much more creative than you give yourself credit for, and this is what motivates me to do the work I do. I see potential in people. I’ve made it my job, starting when I was a kindergarten teacher up to the present.
Lately I’m either not hearing the voices of those who see my potential — my next leap — or I’m in need of additional voices. Could be in the form of a coach or a literary agent — a person whose job is literally to believe in their client’s abilities and champion their writing career. (Let me pause here to imagine the absolute luxury of that… aahhhhh.✨)
So during my sabbatical, I intend to seek and open myself up to outside help. I’m feeling tapped out from being my own cheerleader, my own coach, and each player on the team. And sometimes both teams, playing against each other - haha, that’s the Libra in me. 🤪 This is the downside to solopreneurship, a path I’m very aware that I chose for myself.
I guess the “experiment” part is to see where asking for help might lead. Also asking myself:
> Where might I ease up on my striving-to-do-it-all?
> What might grow better when it’s not being forced?
And that brilliant yoga teacher question:
> Where can I soften?
I need some intentional practice at receiving. ❤️
Excuse Me While I Slack Off
My sabbatical will probably last a few months, not a whole year. And you might not even notice, because I’d like to keep up this blogging schedule we’re on. I’m hoping you’ll still be here when I fully return, and plus, it took me nine years to master a routine that works for me, so I don’t really want to ditch it yet. Things just might look different for the next little while.
What do I have in mind? Permission slips.
Giving Myself Permission to —…
1) Pull up some articles from the archives when the 3rd of the month (time for a WORDS post!) rolls around. I’ve been writing essays for you, my public, for ten years now. I’m pretty sure you missed some of them, because we both know how busy you are. So you won’t mind a few repeats, right? 😉
2) Take shortcuts and lower my standards. Almost every time I sit down to write here, I tell myself, “Keep it short and sweet! It doesn’t have to be a novella. No one will complain about having too little to read, or finishing too fast” and then my posts end up being humongously long. In coming months some of them might actually be brief, or they might read more like quick notes than blog posts. We’ll see if I can do it! 🤞🏽
3) Substitute a video from my YouTube channel for a SOUND post sometime. Yeah, I just might!
4) Invite the same guests back to the Accidental Muralist podcast. I mentioned doing this in the episode with Keyonda, and it sounds really restful and pleasant. Build on what we started last year, rather than always starting something new. Go deeper, not wider.
5) Stop actively selling things… but not quite yet! (First I need to tell you about the “I ❤️ Democracy” flash art sale, so stick with me.) I’ve always had a troubled relationship with “salesiness”, and yet selling things is kind of the point of having a business. I’m going to be cogitating about this during my sabbatical.
6) Be a full-time student. I’m always a student of something, but most of my energy since becoming an RA in Serra Hall my senior year of college has been spent on leading others. Teaching. Parenting. Facilitating. Inventing. Since 1986. I’m aching to get out of the driver’s seat for a while.
So that’s my plan.
Why am I telling you all this?
Why lay this all out here? Same reason as always: Because maybe you can relate. Maybe me publicly giving myself permission to slack off will allow you to give yourself permission to be less than perfect. If you can’t take a break from working or parenting or creating things, maybe there’s a way you can tone down the striving in your own life.
Maybe The Gaze affects you, too, and you’ll find ways to ease out from under its spell. Experience more joy in your body’s movements. Carve out time for creative flow.
And because saying what I intend to do out loud, in front of people, makes it much more likely that I’ll actually do it! Accountability.
Before I Check Out: Flash Art Sale for Voting Rights: “I ❤️ Democracy”
There’s something important I want to do before I hibernate, so let me switch gears for a sec.
From now through April 15th I’ll be donating 50% of proceeds from my shop to the Black Voters Matter Fund.
I don’t know about you, but I appreciate having a say in how national, state, and local government works. Democracies only function when every eligible person has a say. It is not up to state legislatures to decide how the voting should have turned out, nor is it their job to make voting harder or more uncomfortable for citizens. That’s what’s happening in many places around the country. We deserve better, but we have to work for it.
From now through April 15th I’ll be donating 50% of proceeds from my shop to the Black Voters Matter Fund.
Last summer I held a fundraiser for Black Voters Matter when I barely knew anything about the organization. The more I learn, the more I support their efforts, not just in Georgia where they are based, but nationwide. Right now they’re leading the charge to urge large corporations to speak out against and stop financially supporting candidates and political parties that are right now actively working to suppress voting rights. “Democracy helps corporations thrive, too,” is part of the BVM message, and it’s working. Each day more large companies are speaking out against voter suppression in the states where they do business. Money speaks loudly in the U.S. — much louder than voices of reason and fairness, unfortunately. This is an effective effort that is worth supporting.
From now through April 15th I’ll be donating 50% of proceeds from my shop to the Black Voters Matter Fund.
That means it’s a great time to:
> Buy that Doodle Book you’ve been thinking about buying, plus a few extra copies for your friends!
> Choose your favorite crow painting or mosaic for a Mother’s Day or Father’s Day gift.
> Get a jump on graduation season with a few Fun Kits.
> Stock up on greeting cards for all of those occasions and more.
My online shop won’t exactly close on April 15th, but I plan to stop talking about it for a while. 😉 And I might switch it up a bit. So click here to peruse before I do.
Thanks for helping me send love and funding to BVMF to keep our democracy going strong.
And thank you for reading this all the way to the end. I appreciate you!
Love,
Pam
P.S. My sabbatical does not mean I don’t want to hear from you. Can you relate to anything I expressed here? Have you given yourself a sabbatical before? Let me know in the comment section of my blog, or via email. 😘