I became a lot better at slowing down and being present after having kids. Mostly as a survival technique—a toddler-paced walk can feel excruciating if you can’t learn to slow down and take in your surroundings. That doesn’t mean I’m always that way, I hide in my phone or have hamster wheel thoughts too, but at least when I’m outside or have access to a window, I can tap into a few moments of calm and ease. This helps revive me for creative practice and gives space for creative thoughts to bloom.
phew yes--the slowness can be excruciating, or it can be a gift. I still think about that with my kids, even though they're older--my 8 year old is a kind of determinedly slow walker, which I find frustrating at times, but he also helps me to see things I would have missed and to embrace a little more slowness in my own life.
That's a great question made me look at my writing in a different way. I am a caregiver to my adult daughter who had a stroke after brain surgery. She pretty much needs 24/7 care, but in unpredictable ways. She is impulsive, but charming. Loves people and theatre, but can no longer be in large spaces with lots going on (sensory overload that triggers aggression). I think my caregiving role & having to be hypervigilant to sensory issues (light, sound, visual busyness) has made me more observant around the sensory elements, and that comes out in my writing...how I play with finding the right descriptions and words and tend towards lyricism, which is better able to capture all the elements that might go into, for example, a breeze or a drop of rain.
Oh my goodness, that's so interesting, Nancy -- the way that your caregiving has attuned you to the sensory world and how you're bringing that into your writing. And sending lots of love to you and your daughter ❤️
Thanks (other) Nancy (haha). I hadn't really thought about it until you posed this question. So I think I will sit with it a bit more and see what other impacts might be emerging. There are obvious ones... some of my writing is more fractured as I try to write into the fracture of our lives and her brain. So I find myself intrigued by forms that can accommodate the mess of it, to paraphrase Beckett.
I became a lot better at slowing down and being present after having kids. Mostly as a survival technique—a toddler-paced walk can feel excruciating if you can’t learn to slow down and take in your surroundings. That doesn’t mean I’m always that way, I hide in my phone or have hamster wheel thoughts too, but at least when I’m outside or have access to a window, I can tap into a few moments of calm and ease. This helps revive me for creative practice and gives space for creative thoughts to bloom.
phew yes--the slowness can be excruciating, or it can be a gift. I still think about that with my kids, even though they're older--my 8 year old is a kind of determinedly slow walker, which I find frustrating at times, but he also helps me to see things I would have missed and to embrace a little more slowness in my own life.
That's a great question made me look at my writing in a different way. I am a caregiver to my adult daughter who had a stroke after brain surgery. She pretty much needs 24/7 care, but in unpredictable ways. She is impulsive, but charming. Loves people and theatre, but can no longer be in large spaces with lots going on (sensory overload that triggers aggression). I think my caregiving role & having to be hypervigilant to sensory issues (light, sound, visual busyness) has made me more observant around the sensory elements, and that comes out in my writing...how I play with finding the right descriptions and words and tend towards lyricism, which is better able to capture all the elements that might go into, for example, a breeze or a drop of rain.
Thanks for that!
Nancy Huggett, Canada
Oh my goodness, that's so interesting, Nancy -- the way that your caregiving has attuned you to the sensory world and how you're bringing that into your writing. And sending lots of love to you and your daughter ❤️
Thanks (other) Nancy (haha). I hadn't really thought about it until you posed this question. So I think I will sit with it a bit more and see what other impacts might be emerging. There are obvious ones... some of my writing is more fractured as I try to write into the fracture of our lives and her brain. So I find myself intrigued by forms that can accommodate the mess of it, to paraphrase Beckett.
"forms that accommodate the mess of it" is such a smart and thoughtful way to put it. (and I don't often get to talk to another Nancy!)