The blank page, a predictable day, the sink full of dirty dishes. That gnawing feeling that, whether by your own devices or not, your life has stalled out. Sisyphus didn’t quit pushing; he just lost the muscle control to exert any real force on the boulder. When I grew up in the church, they called this time a “season.” Really, any time life wasn’t going your way was coded as a cosmic waiting room, where you waited to hear God’s voice like an orderly calling you to the back for your annual prostate exam.
Kodak Ultramax400 on Olympus XA - South Dakota
That’s where I find myself as of late. I’m stuck between festival announcements, work gigs, and a gaping hole in my basement floor that can’t seem to attract a contractor in the tri-state area. So I take action (Marcus would be proud). I make lists. I make lists of lists and transfer those lists onto smaller lists that I carry with me every day. I check off items on said hierarchy of lists, and yet nothing seems to move in a meaningfully measurable way.
Kodak Ultramax400 on Olympus XA - Aberdeen, South Dakota
That can feel... not great. I do believe momentum begets momentum, so I focus on small creative wins. I collage, I mow the lawn, I take on freelance work, I box, and I take photographs. Those things help, but I’m starting to feel like these long in-between stretches are all part of the gig. It’s like the family cross-country trips I took as a kid, where you resigned yourself to staring out the window because you’d already finished the activity bag your mom assembled for your entertainment.
Kodak Ultramax400 on Olympus XA - South Dakota
Like boredom, perhaps these transitional times are actually a gift. Uncomfortable as they are, they could be a chance to rest, to experiment, and to dream about what’s next. So, at least for the next few months, I’m trying to remember that as I keep applying forward pressure. These photographs are evidence of that small forward creative momentum and uncertainty.
Kodak Ultramax400 on Olympus XA - Aberdeen, South Dakota