Tag: burnout

Lying Fallow

Here’s a post I wish I had written. It is about the importance – in fact, the necessity bytime – of doing nothing. It is a familiar concept in an agricultural context to let a field lie fallow.

That is, leaving something alone to rest for a period of time to let it replenish itself and regenerate. In the words that used to be popular in social parlance a few years back, making time to “sharpen the saw.”

Many people work themselves to the edge of, or even into actual, burnout. Many don’t feel they have any other choice. Single parents come to mind. And young men in a hurry.

But overworking can be a trap. I have learned that my effectiveness diminishes the more spent I become. I end up going through the motions but without much output or productivity to show for it. I am effectively treading water and sometimes, hardly even that.

Many people work consistently and doggedly toward an ephemeral or ideal goal when they don’t have to. A relentless and unbroken cycle of nonstop work can set us up for devastating downturns or even long-term failure.

The cycle is usually easy to identify. We work like crazy for months, even years, until something in us or around us breaks down or stops working. Our health. A marriage. Kids. Without taking deliberate “fallow time” to regroup and replenish ourselves, this dysfunctional outcome is pretty predictable.

So I seized on this essay by Julie Peters when I found it about the value of doing nothing. I was compelled to share it. I am sharing it because I needed to hear it. Maybe you do, too?

“I’ve been spending a lot of my evenings lately sitting at home watching Netflix.

Not very romantic, I know. On these evenings, after long days of meetings, teaching, yoga, meditation, writing and all the rest of it, I think, shouldn’t I be doing something more productive with my life—or at least more interesting?

We live in a world that privileges work, productivity, and speed, so when I take the time to do nothing in particular, I feel guilty. I am not carpe-ing any diems here. So why do I feel such a strong need to sit on my couch and watch TV shows from the early nineties?

I think it’s for the same reason growing fields need to sometimes lie fallow. Farmers will occasionally plough a field that normally grows a crop like corn or wheat, and simply not seed it for that growing season. The blank, unseeded space is a “fallow field.”

During this time of apparently nothing, the soil is regenerating, and restoring its fertility so that by next season it will be ready to grow. The farmers don’t treat the soil, inject it with fertilizers, plant better seeds, or poke at it with a magic wand. They just get out of the way. 

We want so much to have control over our lives, our health, and our happiness. In the yoga and wellness communities, we have lots of extra tools that we can’t find in conventional medicine. So what do we do? We constantly mess around with our physical issues and mental health—at the expense of the simple, humbling medicine of just getting out of the way.

A yoga teacher friend of mine had a pain in her shoulder, and she had learned all these fabulous techniques to help to release it. She was stretching it, strengthening it, rolling on it with a dowel, lying on golf balls, anything she could think of. After months of incessant pain, she finally went to see her doctor about it who asked, “Have you let it rest?”

We are a culture of human doings, not human beings. We are not in the habit of taking time off to let the body and mind do their mysterious internal work. Have you ever tried going to a coffee shop alone and drinking the coffee—maybe just looking out the window? You feel like a whack-a-mole lifting your head in that sea of noses buried in smartphones, newspapers, and laptops.

It’s hard to trust that just because you can’t see growth or change doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. My writing, for example, benefits greatly when I leave it for a few hours to think about other things.

Ideas come to me while I’m walking the dog or taking a dance class. Giving my instincts a chance to talk to me passively can be helpful. Sometimes it’s also a little scary: if I give myself the space to think and feel properly, I might discover that I need to change something.

So sleep late, watch a dumb movie, stare out the window, or go for a walk. Taking the time to lie fallow, whether it’s a few minutes at the end of the day, or months of quiet after a stressful or traumatic event, can regenerate your creativity, energy, and whatever else you may not even know that you need. Trust your fallow field, and it will be ready when the growing season comes.

Julie Peters

Take My Own Advice, Maybe?

Self-isolation is a gift. When the world has been nipping away at you for longer than you can stand to meet its own particular needs, we all have the right to call “time out.” The trick is learning we have that right.

I am working on recognizing my own complicity in allowing the nipping to happen. If I’m not available, no nipping can happen I theorize. But there are times and tasks that must be faced and worked through to avoid unpleasant consequences. There are people and tasks we must face to accomplish certain ends.

Too often we put ourselves out there and on the line emotionally for no good reason whatsoever. Okay. I often put myself on the line emotionally for no good reason whatsoever.

The trick is to catch yourself in your own wrongheaded thinking. I have come up against some challenges of late that have me questioning what is going on in the world today.

My primary physician’s staff resolutely refuses to release my own medical records to me. That was so wrong and crazy I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

People recently charged with my well-being literally walked away from their posts. They were not even mildly apologetic or disturbed by my distress. Rather they were defensive and accusatory because I took issue with their shabby behavior.

Someone I hired to do a task didn’t show up and hasn’t bothered to explain or apologize. That person “ghosted” me after making a commitment I relied on. I’d writhe in shame if I did that to someone. I honestly don’t know how to make sense or put any of that into a relatable context. The world seems to have gone mad.

I operate on what I guess are old-fashioned and out of date rules about keeping your word and doing your best and treating everyone you meet with respect and decency. The Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

That often makes me feel like a social Luddite. When I talk about the importance of honesty, I can hear some people chuckling under their breath. “Nice thought, but get real. No one is honest these days.”

And we wonder why the world feels so screwed up? I don’t follow the Golden Rule to make someone else feel better. I follow it to make myself feel better. Mostly to apply some consistency and predictability to my social interactions. Some days, though, it feels like that rule no longer works for me.

As a result, the circle within which I live is getting smaller. As I meet and interact with people who seem devoid of kindness or decency, I psychologically and physically recoil from them. And I certainly hope I don’t need them up the road.

It is not that person doesn’t have my full compassion. I simply recognize we are not operating on the same level with certain key values about how to build and sustain social relationships.

No use trying to push a string, I often say. It doesn’t do any good to expect an elevated level of behavior in people who simply aren’t mature enough to be there yet. That would be like expecting a three year old to drive.

It is often said water seeks its own level. That is, we tend to seek out and build lasting relationships with people who are more or less in tune and simpatico with who we are. Even if some people are not at the same social or economic level, it is relatively easy to sort out decent and authentic folks from charlatans. Mostly.

Of course, there is an inherent cost to longterm self-isolation. There is a danger of losing touch with what is going on in the society around you. Your relevance to the world may diminish. Your awareness of societal trends can wither. Humans need one another to grow and thrive. Isolating for too long can rob you of that connection.

But it is useful when your extremities are bloody from being incessantly nipped at and your body and soul need rest. Self-isolation can be a highly desirable doorway to duck into for a time. You can fill your days with things, like music and books and beautiful things and nourishing food.

So many of us, especially women, are fed the lie that our presence is indispensable to others and our self-worth often centered on making sure others around us are well taken care of.

I have come to believe that absenting myself for a time to take care of my own needs is an opportunity for others to learn to take better care of themselves. Win-win.

With that single, simple decision, think of the drama and burnout and suffering that could be avoided in our relationships. I sure do. All the time.