The things we want are the things we always want – it always comes back to the same stuff. I've been thinking about this lately, as I've found myself craving open space in my mind again. I used to say this a lot a few years ago, when I burned out and didn't write for about 18 months – I'm nowhere near anything like that, but I've been working at an unsustainable pace for a bit too long and what I want ... is the same thing I always want.
I knew this would happen when I signed myself up for a month-plus of an unsustainable amount of work – I knew it would be painful. But it was a reasonable deal to solve some problems, and I had a talk with myself – my brain had a talk with the kid that it shares space with up there – and they both got onboard. My good attitude lasted about 25 days, which is when I hit the wall and had to take A DAY – I got back to it the next day, but the kid was stomping around a lot, not getting in the way but slamming doors, just so I knew.
Does everyone have a "kid and the brain" situation? Bear with me as I stretch this metaphor way too far, but I see the "brain" as the self who thinks practically and understands tax forms and bin day, and the "kid" as the self who feels things deeply and lives in the moment. The kid isn't necessarily a hedonist, but they’re certainly not onboard with postponing enjoyment indefinitely. This past month has reminded me that you can only push yourself so far before there has to be a free space on the Monopoly board – a full two-day weekend will do, for starters. Because if there's not, the kid will eventually kick over the table and demand a say in how we’re running things.
But back to the thing that I want (the thing I always want). I am very aware that this lament for mental space makes it sound like I just don't want to work, which is really not what I'm saying at all. I've had a couple of conversations about this lately, and I've realised that what I'm longing for is actually more days with the freedom to think about work in a less structured, less interrupted way – the kind of workday where I just do one thing for hours on end, and don’t constantly have to check my messages.
When I told Luke about this, he told me about the feeling he gets when he has too many days with back-to-back meetings – he calls it having his mind "yoked”. It’s when you have your attention pulled around all day, with little to no time to process, let alone choosing what to think about. We’re always told our thoughts are our own, but if something comes at you every moment of the day, that’s not really the case, is it.
For me, overwhelm first manifests as wanting to sit in silence on my office sofa, like Don Draper staring into the middle distance. Then, it shows up as wanting to walk across something green, intending to put my headphones on but never quite getting around to it, just enjoying the freedom of thinking about all of it, any of it, in whatever direction it wants to run. But when, when I’ve had a moment to get back to myself, I always remember that the kid and the brain actually have a lot in common. These mental conflicts are often framed as a tug of war between long- and short term thinking, but I don't think that's necessarily the case. The kid in my head wants things beyond the present moment too – both the kid and the brain genuinely like writing, for example, and are willing to endure a lot of discomfort in the pursuit of that.
When the two halves are in alignment, that’s when things get really interesting. I spent years working out how to get them there, and the TL;DR is that I had to get real about what I want – what I actually, really, truly want – and what that road looks like when you break it down. Sometimes that means I don’t have a balanced month but I have a balanced quarter instead, as is the case right now. The trick is to get the kid and the brain to both understand that, so they trust each other to take the wheel. Today is another brain-in-charge day, but the kid knows that this weekend is wide open to play – both days of it.
Things I've been writing lately.
The last days of the Bethnal Green gasholders, East London's urban cathedrals - Time Out London
The two gasholders sitting on the canal just above Broadway Market in East London are a beloved local landmark – no matter what's going on in your life they're always there, towering gloriously and defiantly against the skyline. But the housing juggernaut has reached the Bethnal Green gasholders. For Time Out London, I reported on the end of an era.
Why I’m sticking with British Summer Time all year round – The i Paper
I’m a talking head! Always fun to be in actual print, and I’m pleased I got to share with the nation my personal deranged little plan for how I stay in the light all winter – by refusing to change my clocks. Rage against the dying of the light! Read the online version (which is longer than Saturday’s print version) in the link.
To save Europe's rivers, it's back to basics - Green European Journal
As a river swimmer I have strong feelings about urban rivers – I want to get in, and experience the city from that unique vantage point. But a swimmable river isn't just about wellbeing and belonging. A river that you can swim in is a proxy for a river that's healthy, and as climate change bites, rivers are increasingly flooding, drying, and causing problems. For Green European Journal (the political ecology magazine from the Green European Foundation, backed by the European Parliament), I wrote about what we need to do to keep Europe's rivers healthy, so we can enable them to keep us healthy in turn – it really is a matter of collaborating with nature. (This story was co-published by Eurozine, a network of European culture journals.)
Things I've been reading lately.
For this month and a half's article recommendations from around the internet, head over to Reading List, In a Flash edition.