We Go Slow
even on the eve of a Kickstarter campaign
A couple of weeks ago, I was talking with my therapist about vulnerability and failure (no surprise there—oh hello, Kickstarter launch.) At some point in the conversation, I realized that the values Jenn and I have cultivated through joyful practice are the wise guides we can look to as we navigate this new stage of our collaboration (still looking at you, Kickstarter).
Jenn and I have distilled these values into something we call joyful practice principles, and we use them to guide our work (and, more and more, our lives). One of our joyful practice principles is we go slow. We go slow means different things to me at different times. Some days it is a reminder to rest. Other days, it is a reminder to be intentional and deliberate in my actions and words. Other times, we go slow asks me to be observant, to pay attention—to people, critters, plants, and landscapes; to smells, sounds, and tastes; or to the chaotic events of a given moment. To cite another joyful practice principle, going slow is one way we can take care of ourselves and each other.
At the same time we’ve been working on our Kickstarter launch, I’ve been transitioning to a new Crohn’s drug (which I talked about in my last Scrap Heap post) and Jenn has had her own health ups and downs (here’s Jenn’s amazing post on perimenopause). Our bodies have been through a lot. They are tired.
Much of the advice we’ve received about running a Kickstarter campaign tells us to treat it like a full time job. This advice creates a tension point for Jenn and me because what we are building together is definitely anathema to the drudgery and exhaustion most of us experience in our jobs. Our desire is to liberate ourselves from the capitalist assumption that success is tied to our ability to buybuybuybuybuy (even at the expense of our planet) and gogogogogogogogo (even at the expense of rest and listening to the needs of our tired animal bodies).
I’ve used the term analog+digital estuary to describe the process Jenn and I are going through to turn an analog-created object into a digital object that can be handed into a printer and turned into a book-shaped object that we want each of you to some day soon hold in your hands. It occurs to me now that we are also swimming in a joyful practice+capitalism estuary. The necessary work of building and running a Kickstarter campaign means that we will have to ride the tension of both/both, acknowledging the ways we participate in capitalism and use it as a tool, while also, at the same time, not abandoning the joyful practice principles that can guide us through this next phase of bringing our book into the world
(Like my therapist says, the way you do one thing is the way you do all things: we go slow & we take care of ourselves and each other.)
This is why, during the month of April, we are facilitating a series of community events. We want to stay connected to the spirit of our work. Our goal is to keep the joy in joyful practice while we dip into fundraising and promotions. We hope that you can join us for a live event in Olympia or a virtual event over Zoom.
We also hope that you will widely share and support our upcoming Kickstarter, which will go live on April Fool’s Day (we will share the link in next week’s Scrap Heap post). We can’t wait to unveil our rewards (Hint: one of the rewards is a tee-shirt. That tee-shirt has one of Jenn’s awesome line-drawings.) We also can’t wait to share snippets of our book with you over the next month. We think you will love learning about the book as much as we are loving creating it.
prompt
we go slow
a joyful practice prompt for the beginning of spring
The other day I told our Joyful Practice workshop community that I create the prompts I need. I created this prompt in honor of the spring equinox and as a reminder that even when things get busy, I can seek kinship in the slow things of the world. In fact, I have no choice but to go slow. Living with chronic illness means that if I don’t slow down when my body tells me to, my body will find a way to make me slow down.
I hope that reflecting on being in kinship with slow things will offer solace in a time of whiplash changes. May the lichen and stones and slugs help us all remember that, although change and uncertainty are eating at our foundations, slow things remain steady, and we can tap into that steadiness to steady ourselves.
These slugs are so glorious!
This is a great reminder.💜🐌