Aparigraha--and a Question for Writers
The other day, I happened to be at a bookstore with a new acquaintance, browsing. She came up and said, "Did you find anything you can't live without?"
Without thinking, I laughed and said, "No, I'm great at living without things I really want."
Which made me think. I'm no fan of asceticism for its own sake, and I do buy stuff. But we've been on a relatively careful budget for many years now (so much so that many well-to-do people's new "economies," due to the downturn, just seem funny).
We--James & I--both enjoy being generous; we like to treat, to give gifts to other people (which is good, so we don't have to argue about it; we share the hospitality gene). And my job has sometimes meant having to pretend to have more than I do in those work-social situations that are semi-required (like, bringing a nice bottle of wine to a colleague's dinner party when you're already putting groceries on the credit card that month and should probably stay home, eat a peanut-butter sandwich, and watch The Daily Show). We've foregone a lot of things we've personally wanted over the years, and we've kept up appearances, more or less. I think that's just life as most people live it.
Looking ahead, though, to the moment when our Pride-&-Joy crosses the stage and we owe Oberlin nothing, has got me thinking about aparigraha, one of the five Yamas, or restraints, from the Yoga Sutra. Aparigraha means limiting possessions to what is necessary or important. (The other four have to do with refraining from injuring anyone, lying to anyone, including yourself, and coveting things, and sexual purity, which means either celibacy or (whew!) faithful monogamy.)
I like the five Yamas and aspire to them--they make you feel clean and simple in the world, and they help keep you from messing up.
But the difficult part of aparigraha, "limiting possessions to what is necessary or important," is, of course, that defining necessary and important is left up to you, and important, in particular, leaves a lot of wiggle room.
I'm thinking about this as I look ahead to furnishing my wee office. Maybe blogging about this in the midst of a global economic crisis shows how hopelessly out of touch and insensitive I am. I'm not sure. But there are two things I'd really like to have, so I'm weighing their necessity and importance.
First, I'd like to have a chaise. I draft by hand, with my notebook propped on my knees, and I like to sit somewhere squishy and super-comfortable while I do. (I've often drafted in bed.) Only when my brain drifts comfortably free from my body, in a quasi-dream state, do the images and lines start to arrive.
So a chaise would be ideal: half-chair, half-bed, all squish.
And then comes the part when I have to type the good bits into computer files, so the other thing I'd like to acquire is a stand-up desk. Right now, I have a little table that the former owners of our house in Indiana left behind thirteen years ago. It's about the right size, but it's wildly uncomfortable to sit at--wrong height--and I get fidgety, anyway, when I sit here. It's like I have slightly too much energy to sit obediently, like my own good clerical assistant, and type things in. I get restless, and the energy has nowhere to go, and so I start wanting to eat ginger snaps or drink a soda or bite my nails. Ugh.
Thus the stand-up desk.
So I think I want to commit to planning to save for those, but honestly, this whole room-of-one's-own thing is still unsettling for me, however pleased Woolf would be. Fact is, I've been writing for years without any of these luxurious accoutrements. The whole enterprise, while delicious, smacks of bloated self-indulgence--but that just could be my poor-kid-background talking, or the whole Jehovah's-Witness thing about eschewing materialism still ringing in my back-brain.
So I'm curious about you several writers out there. What necessary and important accommodations do you make to help your writing flourish? How do you feel about them? Do they share the status of guilty pleasures, or are they factored matter-of-factly into your budget like groceries and toothpaste? How do you balance them against other imperatives in your life and in the world?
Without thinking, I laughed and said, "No, I'm great at living without things I really want."
Which made me think. I'm no fan of asceticism for its own sake, and I do buy stuff. But we've been on a relatively careful budget for many years now (so much so that many well-to-do people's new "economies," due to the downturn, just seem funny).
We--James & I--both enjoy being generous; we like to treat, to give gifts to other people (which is good, so we don't have to argue about it; we share the hospitality gene). And my job has sometimes meant having to pretend to have more than I do in those work-social situations that are semi-required (like, bringing a nice bottle of wine to a colleague's dinner party when you're already putting groceries on the credit card that month and should probably stay home, eat a peanut-butter sandwich, and watch The Daily Show). We've foregone a lot of things we've personally wanted over the years, and we've kept up appearances, more or less. I think that's just life as most people live it.
Looking ahead, though, to the moment when our Pride-&-Joy crosses the stage and we owe Oberlin nothing, has got me thinking about aparigraha, one of the five Yamas, or restraints, from the Yoga Sutra. Aparigraha means limiting possessions to what is necessary or important. (The other four have to do with refraining from injuring anyone, lying to anyone, including yourself, and coveting things, and sexual purity, which means either celibacy or (whew!) faithful monogamy.)
I like the five Yamas and aspire to them--they make you feel clean and simple in the world, and they help keep you from messing up.
But the difficult part of aparigraha, "limiting possessions to what is necessary or important," is, of course, that defining necessary and important is left up to you, and important, in particular, leaves a lot of wiggle room.
I'm thinking about this as I look ahead to furnishing my wee office. Maybe blogging about this in the midst of a global economic crisis shows how hopelessly out of touch and insensitive I am. I'm not sure. But there are two things I'd really like to have, so I'm weighing their necessity and importance.
First, I'd like to have a chaise. I draft by hand, with my notebook propped on my knees, and I like to sit somewhere squishy and super-comfortable while I do. (I've often drafted in bed.) Only when my brain drifts comfortably free from my body, in a quasi-dream state, do the images and lines start to arrive. So a chaise would be ideal: half-chair, half-bed, all squish.
And then comes the part when I have to type the good bits into computer files, so the other thing I'd like to acquire is a stand-up desk. Right now, I have a little table that the former owners of our house in Indiana left behind thirteen years ago. It's about the right size, but it's wildly uncomfortable to sit at--wrong height--and I get fidgety, anyway, when I sit here. It's like I have slightly too much energy to sit obediently, like my own good clerical assistant, and type things in. I get restless, and the energy has nowhere to go, and so I start wanting to eat ginger snaps or drink a soda or bite my nails. Ugh.
Thus the stand-up desk.
So I think I want to commit to planning to save for those, but honestly, this whole room-of-one's-own thing is still unsettling for me, however pleased Woolf would be. Fact is, I've been writing for years without any of these luxurious accoutrements. The whole enterprise, while delicious, smacks of bloated self-indulgence--but that just could be my poor-kid-background talking, or the whole Jehovah's-Witness thing about eschewing materialism still ringing in my back-brain.
So I'm curious about you several writers out there. What necessary and important accommodations do you make to help your writing flourish? How do you feel about them? Do they share the status of guilty pleasures, or are they factored matter-of-factly into your budget like groceries and toothpaste? How do you balance them against other imperatives in your life and in the world?
Faye said:
My advice: buy the chaise AND the stand-up desk (now that I've seen that those exist, I want one also...but I will have to save up for it, too). You work hard and you deserve them. There's nothing wrong with being good to yourself now and then.
I tried to think of something luxurious I've given to myself related to writing, but the best example I could come up with was this: years ago my parents gave me a bit of money to set aside so that one day I could buy some kind of home (maybe a down payment on a condo, for example). I was alone for many years and they wanted to make sure I would be able to have a home at some point. Well, I kept that money in the bank for a long time. Then, a few years ago, I decided to spend it on an MFA program in Creative Writing instead of using it for real estate. I felt very guilty about this and asked my parents numerous times if they were OK with it. It seemed like a huge luxury to go back to school (I already had a master's degree in another field) and spend that kind of money on more education, especially when an MFA was not likely to help me get a high-paying job or generally improve my financial status in life. But I felt that spending two years in an MFA program was the only way I was going to dedicate myself to at least trying to become the writer I wanted to be. My parents were fine with the decision. It was scary and hard because I tend to associate money in the bank with security, but I spent the money on the MFA. And in the end, it was worth it. The home thing worked itself out another way.
When it comes to a smaller luxury that I really want, I always think of it this way (because I, too, have a hard time spending money on myself): in a year, or a few years, the money you would have saved/had if you hadn't bought it will be absorbed into something else or forgotten. But you won't forget something you truly need or want, a gift that you give to yourself. You will enjoy and appreciate it for years.
May 16, 2010 12:59 AMfayepoet said:
Aparighapa--intriguing-- what is necessary and/or important.It seems to me that you have some very important and necessary reasons for wanting a chaise and a stand-up desk.
In fact, I was thinking about you the other day while reading the chapters in Ted Kooser & Steve Cox's book, Writing Brave & Free. In three, very brief chapters, they cover longhand writing vs. computer writing, the choice of space and how essential it is to choose tools and furniture which provide the right atmosphere for comfort and "a place where you can let your spontaneity bloom." (p49)
They even go so far as to describe shoulder and back exercises-- the ergonomic factors, etc. but a stand-up desk-which is quite new to me-seems to be make infinite sense given your restless nature AND its ergonomic excellence.
I hope you can wrap your head around the fact that the chaise will be terrific for your creativity/ spark those inspired drafts and the stand-up desk will help keep your energy focused on shaping the drafts. I would say the combination is"Ideal" and why not, at this stage-- especially since you are so aware of your process and what you need. I agree with Faye--go for it.
As for myself, I have my own study with a door, two windows which give me great light and a view of trees, a desk which I chose as much for its aesthetics as for function (after years with a utilitarian office table), files on wheels and bookcases. It's cozy-- I write in longhand at my kitchen table (no children, quiet husband),and do all my revising and shaping on the computer in my study.
As I write, I realize that good natural light & the sight of a tree is as essential to me as squishy & super comfortable is to you. We're dealing with the intangibles of what feeds and nourishes our generative side. Yup... necessary & important for a writer!
May 16, 2010 4:37 AM