Redefining productivity this Labor Day
And how setting up ripe conditions for my writing practice this summer has been key
Contemplations
What would you do if money was not an issue? Allow yourself to think of this answer, even if it feels impossible. Allow yourself to dream.
What narratives come up when you think about productivity? How can you redefine that on your own terms? How can you celebrate the invisible work that you do?
How can you start valuing your work? Yourself?
***
Right before I left for boiling hot Texas to visit some dear friends two weeks ago, I had told my therapist that I felt like I hadn’t done much this summer. She quickly intervened, stopping this narrative I had started about myself and instead asked me to make a list of all the things I had done from May on.
As I went through my list with her, I quickly started to realize how wrong I was and how my perception of what I had “accomplished” was still rooted in capitalistic thinking — remnants of my corporate America days as a media exec. She pushed me further to investigate some of the bullets I had outlined and said that in many cases, one bullet point didn’t really fully encompass the amount of effort, time, energy, mental and emotional labor I put into something.
“You should have 20 sub bullets for some of these,” she said.
I took a big deep breath and looked at the list again and felt my body let go of this story I had crafted in my mind — one that associated productivity with the embodied feeling of exhaustion, hustling, grinding. It was a revelatory moment to realize that my body had internalized, memorized what achievement should feel like.
Earlier this year, I got laid off from a full-time job that I didn’t want to begin with. When I first got laid off, my scarcity mindset kicked in and I went straight into emergency planning mode, trying to figure out what was the next gig I could land. My anxiety had me seeing red and pacing around our house when my beautiful wife kindly reminded me that I could either go back to work or do the thing that I’ve always wanted to do: Write my book.
Her words were like a splash of cold water to my face, waking me up to the realization that this time (and my severance) was in fact a gift, that I could use this space to develop a regular writing practice, to dig deep within myself and take the leap that I’ve wanted for years now.
“Do the thing,” she said.
Her words were like a splash of cold water to my face and so I slowly started shift my life into one that centered my writing— that meant dedicating full days to my writing practice, no exception. Some days that would translate into pages for my two book proposals; other days it would translate into me practicing and fiddling around on my banjo for hours; some days that would mean me rolling around and crying on the floor, working through the many emotions I was writing about; others would mean me writing and pitching something for a publication.
What I found simultaneously difficult and most nourishing with this process is how much space I needed to allow myself to just be — no email writing, no zoom calls, no back-to-back meetings. This time on my calendar wasn’t just a place for me to get back to my writing, my creative spirit, but was a place for me to get back to me and my humanity.
I have lost touch with what that feels like over the years, conditioned to show up to a 9 to 5 that makes me mindless, autonomous machine working for the profits or power for either a rich billionaire, or a corporation that disguised itself in front of a rich billionaire.
Not to be all Buddhist about it, but…
In Buddhism, there is a concept and teaching called Store Consciousness. It’s this idea that our mind is comprised of seeds that we either can nurture, through practice or we can let other invasive thoughts (weeds) take over. This has proven to be true in leading neuroscience research, that we are able to rewrite the patterns in our thinking by bringing our attention to that we wish to grow and letting go of the others. It’s not easy, and certain patterns can take lifetimes to re-write, but the most important part of this is understanding that we have the capacity to do so.
Something else that I did this summer was try my hand at a garden. I had this narrative in my head that Jess was the one who had the green thumb in our household, not me. But out of Gemini-driven curiosity, I wanted to see if I could grow any edibles — herbs, vegetables, etc. It has been one of my biggest joys these past few weeks to go out to our garden everyday, pick out the weeds and see things blooming.
As I pick out every spring of grass and I am able to take in the herbaceous smell of the leaves on the tomato plant, the sweetness of the basil and the peppery taste of the garden cress and arugula.
Here’s the thing, some of these plants popped up right away but because we set up the conditions for them to do. We bought the most rich and fertile compost, and we got lucky with a bounty of rain and glorious sun this year. Even still, certain plants just have different periods of growth, even if everything goes “perfectly.” It takes about three weeks for a radish to grow (with enough space), compared to a cauliflower which could take up to four months.
I’m grateful to my growing garden which serves as such a great reminder that we are just plants. Like my veggie babies, we have to set up the conditions for ourselves to grow. How else can we expand ourselves into new ways of thinking? Of living?
So this summer has been the summer of faith, of trusting myself to set up the conditions for my writing practice, of expanding my roots so that when scarcity mindset roars at me (which it already has), I have the space, the equanimity (grounded balance), to resilience to stay on my path that I am not just carving for myself, but to hear the call towards being of service — which is loudest when I am quiet enough to hear, when I am at ease enough to feel its pull.
***
A special thank you — and digging deeper on value
I know it’s been a minute since my last post so thank you for bearing with me as I get back to my weekly-ish flow. And let me take a minute to say how grateful I am to all my supporters. Every single venmo, like, comment, reply, has continued to given me the affirmation that I am on the right path. It has been what has propelled me to keep going on the days when I have lacked faith in myself and the possibility that I can make this my life. So thank you, from every fiber of my being for your support and love.
To quote My Sweet Dumb Brain:
…it feels uncomfortable to confidently share my writing, seek out new readers, and ask for financial support. But I want to change that. I want to believe in myself and the work I’m doing. And, eventually, I want to be more transparent about my own success (or lack thereof) as a way of opening the door for other creators to achieve their own goals. After all, I know I’m not the only one who struggles with a lack of confidence.
As much as I would love to live outside the confines of capitalism, the reality is that I still have to pay the bills. At least in this lifetime, my creative energy requires time, and time equals money. I’m a big believer in ensuring creative folks, folks sharing mindfulness practices should be paid for our time in the same way I would if I put on a suit and tie and showed up to the office. If not, honestly, more for what we put out into the world to inspire collective change.
So as I’m working through scarcity mindset, I’m also working through my imposter syndrome, and asking for folks to support my work, my worth in a way I never have before. It is a new practice, one that as Katie Hawkins-Gaar writes is uncomfortable. Excruciatingly uncomfortable. Because to ask you to value my work, means I have to value my work. But it’s time.
When you read my work on Substack, you should see a button on the top right hand corner that says “Upgrade to Paid.”
It’s important to me to keep all my writing accessible, so you won’t actually lose anything if you don’t have the capacity to financially contribute at this time. It is more of an energetic exchange, of seeing my work. And for those who want to support as a Founding Member, I will be workshopping offerings in the coming months — mindfulness experiences, Buddhist teachings, and more formal curriculum to build awareness (self and social); emotional regulation; collaborative and communication skills.
***
Contemplations
What would you do if money was not an issue? Allow yourself to think of this answer, even if it feels impossible. Allow yourself to dream.
What narratives come up when you think about productivity? How can you redefine that on your own terms? How can you celebrate the invisible work that you do?
How can you start valuing your work? Yourself?
Being a writer requires a certain level of drive, love, tenacity and faith. So if you’re feeling inspired and find value in my work, please consider sending me $1.11 to encourage me to keep going.
Your love motivates me to keep this newsletter going, and allows me to keep my writing practice as an act of service. I’m committed to sending a portion of any monthly donations to a social justice organization I am supporting. Your investment helps support that donation — from protecting abortion access to healthcare services for trans youth. So sending me a few dollars via Venmo (@kthai6) with the note “✨ ✨ ✨” is a way of telling my heart to keep writing, and a small little affirmation from you to me that I am on the right path. It also helps me understand the value of my writing as I continue to navigate capitalism as a writer and teacher. If you’re open to supporting my writing on a more consistent basis, consider subscribing to my paid plan here. Thank you for your contribution so I can continue to make my writing be of service 🙏
I am truly grateful to be on the similar journey together. Love to you, my friend.