When my creative voice lapses into silence, it’s both a symptom and a cause.

Friday’s paddleboarding trip was an important part of my summer recovery.

How are you doing, colleague?

Yesterday was officially my first freestyle day of summer. 

By that, I mean that my last day of work was Friday, June 30th, and every day since has been spoken for. Not by work obligations – I’m talking about good stuff like a family vacation, appointments, and a paddleboard trip with colleagues. The last week has been life-giving in many ways, and I’m deeply grateful for the time I’ve enjoyed with family and friends.

But yesterday was wide open on the calendar. And the peace that I felt told me I freaking needed this. My spirit had been waiting for such a day for weeks, months even.

Which brought me back to this spot. Writing. Putting words together. Claiming the delicious luxury of unhurried quiet time to reflect, look back, take stock of myself, and think about how I want the next few weeks to unfold.

My last blog post was made on April 9th. Three months ago.

How am I doing now? Better.

How was I doing through May and June? Not awesome.

I’ve written many times about the ways that my MEdL degree (2017) and my creative work at Teachers on Fire (2018) breathed new fire into my work in education. Blog posts, podcast episodes, and YouTube videos have blessed me with more opportunities to reflect, learn, and engage with education thought leaders than I ever imagined.

When I’m doing well as a person, I’m doing well as a professional, but I’m also taking time each week to create. Profession and passion are both burning bright.

That means I’m writing. I’m speaking. I’m sharing ideas and engaging in education conversations that in turn pour fuel on my fire and help me be the education leader that I’m called to be. It’s a virtuous cycle.

I know that makes me a weirdo. I know that most teachers need a break from education reading, writing, and conversations on the weekends, and I get that. But for me, there’s a fire that is kindled when I’m engaged in those spaces.

The header on my Teachers on Fire YouTube channel reads “Warming your heart. Sparking your thinking. Igniting your practice.” That’s a mission born from personal experience. 

So when my creative work lapses into silence, it’s both a symptom and a cause.

Creative silence as a symptom

On the one hand, my creative silence is a symptom, because when overwork and burnout encroach on my mental health, creative work becomes expendable. When I’m struggling just to keep my head above water professionally, I lose the bandwidth to write or record. 

Even if I do find the scraps of emotional bandwidth to consider creating a piece of content on a weekend, I’m plagued by guilt and the optics of distraction. Should I really be writing for pleasure on a Saturday while work emails and tasks pile up unattended, family members deserve more of my time and attention, or home maintenance duties call?

My creative silence is a sign that I’m being stretched – sometimes badly so. It means that my mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual health is not what it should be. No margin.

Creative silence as a cause

My creative silence also becomes a cause of mental and emotional decline in itself. Just as restoring cars, fishing, or crocheting breathes life into some educators, producing and engaging with education is my catharsis. As an Adobe study recently found, creating content can be a deep source of joy and fulfillment for creators.

As I said, it’s been three months since I’ve felt the latitude to pick up the proverbial pen and write. Twelve weeks away from the written word.

A creative drought, if you will.

I know these are first-world problems. I know there’s a tremendous amount of privilege and entitlement involved when it comes to lamenting the absence of passion projects.

But I’m speaking to the space and place that I’m in, and I’m speaking from the conviction that every full-time educator owes it to their own mental health to engage in pursuits of passion outside of work time. We cannot be just our work.

By my ideals and values, 90 days between writing pieces is unacceptable.

Moving forward 

In the days and weeks to come, I want to take some time, some rest, and further reflection to unpack the last term and sort through the mechanics of my decline in wellness and creative output. There’s some learning to be done here, and that will likely be worthy of its own post.

But for now, I’m going to enjoy this moment. Laundry is clean and sorted. The lawn has been mowed and the car has been washed. The family is safe, healthy, and happy. My office window is open and I’m enjoying the light breeze of a warm summer day.

I have nowhere to rush to and no tasks that require urgent attention. I’m back to writing, and I can feel my fire for learning coming back.

Have a great summer, colleague. Whenever you have the time or inclination, I’d love to connect on Twitter @MisterCavey. And if not – if your passions lead you elsewhere – know that I’m cheering you on.

Let’s get our fire back.

Take care, 

Tim