My Time is My Own

 Still of Time Frog puppet in pond set (in progress), camera test circa 2013

Does everyone/anyone else know what it feels like to work on a project over several decades? Can't recommend it really. It's fraught with self-doubt and a kind of life-in-constant-limbo-without-an-end in feasible sight.

I reflect on the mental process of it a lot. I think it's fair to say I empirically must have a certain amount of anxiety at the root of how I do things, anything, all things. Stefan used to say I was "nervous" which was how they described people with anxiety 50 years ago. As with most intuitive knowledge, Stefan was piercingly correct. He meant it in terms of dancing ballet, that dancers need to let go and flow in their bodies to get out of their heads. But it was also very true for my life. I notice I tend to overthink, overdo, over stress in nearly everything undertaken.

Anxiety is likely what's underneath how I conduct my thoughts and reactions to life. Sometimes that kind of issue can give a gift of creativity in an untethered way. As long as it doesn't impair a healthy enough life functioning. I can still function so there is nothing to do except figure out how to optimize it and direct it. I often describe it as like riding a tiger, really powerful and exhilarating, unless we fall off and get eaten.

I've attempted many approaches over the years to steer my tiger toward making filmed scenes for Halfland. Most productivity techniques haven't gotten to the source of my avoidance of doing it. Having my mind understand how to get it done hasn't yet reached the place of my hesitation. Developing a new habit of doing it daily in small amounts may be the only way to make progress at this point.

My current strategy is to embark on some aspect of the production each morning, seven days a week, after breakfast and seeing Paul off to work. Digging into whatever is the most pressing task. Stopping for lunch in the afternoon and then move on to other obligations or projects on my mind until bedtime/collapse.

I'll update how this goes until scenes start dropping here. Will I get to the tasks even before breakfast? Will I never stop, once begun? Will my other projects, as much as I'm strongly attached to them as well, just get swallowed up in the massive amount of time Halfland requires?

There's nothing to lose now. No other workload to deliver, no physically intensive ballet to study or teach, no more debilitating menstrual pain, no social interactions in person, no travel, no errands to run, no home construction to oversee, and the gardens are fully built and growing. The decks are clear at this point.

It has arrived, Halfland Time is mine at last.