What I Learned During My Month of Rest and Relaxation
On anti-escapism, the splinter in your eye, and ominous positivity
Like most good things, August got up and walked out of my life before I’d had the chance to really cherish it. I blinked and there it was again: another autumn on the aureate horizon, the high heat of summer slipping through my fingers like sand.
(I know we’re already three days into October, but bear with me. September got away from me, too.)
This past August was particularly enlightening because I spent its entirety living at the whims of my desires and ignoring my responsibilities altogether. (Read: I took a month-long vacation). It was my attempt at escape from “real life”—a respite from the never-ending onslaught of deadlines and the burnout associated with living in ~a society.~ And, for the most part, it was about as blissful as it sounds.
I high-tailed it to the woods as often as possible, whether to go camping or simply sit and listen to the owls calling in the early hours of the morning. I did a lot of lounging around, watching dreamy revolutionary French cinema and reading How To Do Nothing by Jenny Odell.1
I’m fortunate to have been able to take so much time off of work, and I’ll admit that many of the days spent snoozing helped me reclaim some of my energy levels. But I’ll also admit that as August reached its crescendo, so did my inner existential malaise. By the time the month had sizzled out into September, I was disoriented, exhausted by my own reclusiveness, and a little depressed.
Eventually, I had to turn and face the reality of the situation: my tendency for escapism was the root of the issues I was running from altogether.
When I use the word “escapism,” I’m not talking about leaving the country or running to the mountainside to start a commune. I’m referring to the tendency to avoid the things that are hard, uncomfortable, or inconvenient about our own lives—stuff like career crises, personal insecurities, and other things that get us down.
I’m a perfect example of a so-called escapist. I generally tap out when things get tough. I’ve spent most of my adult life wielding an avoidant attachment style, commitment issues, and a consistent desire to always be on the move. I’ve always lived my life thinking I needed to find a way to escape it somehow; that there could possibly be some better version of me and my life if I just kept jetting off to go find them.
I figured August would be my perfect opportunity to sample a mild strain of escapism, that I’d spend the month ignoring my inbox (among other inconveniences) and living in fantasyland. The thing I learned about living in fantasyland, though, is that it’s not the solution. Sure, reality is full of horrors, but it’s also the realm of possibilities and pleasures. You’ve got to be able to slog through the uncomfortable in order to also get to the good stuff (stuff like deep-rooted satisfaction, healthy relationships, a fulfilling career, et cetera).
Escapism was keeping me from actively engaging in and pursuing the things I wanted out of life, primarily because I was doing such a good job of avoiding the possibility of encountering tough emotions altogether. The longer August dragged on, the more removed I felt from the possibility of cultivating the things I needed to make the most out of living. What I realized (and that is probably a no-brainer, but it took me a while to admit this to myself) is that living in real life is the only option we have. Like I wrote in a previous essay, “potential” doesn’t really exist. That includes the potential other lives you tell yourself you could be living if only you could escape this one.
In short, the grass isn’t greener on the other side. It’s greener where you water it. August reminded me to water the roots and tendrils of my own reality and to cherish them completely, the good and the bad. Life is actually a lot better when you spend your energy engaging in it rather than trying to run from it altogether.
I think a lot about the 20th-century German philosopher Theodor Adorno, who was best known for his ability to think negatively about pretty much anything. He published a book of essays, Minima Moralia: Reflections from a Damaged Life, in 1951. There’s a simple line in it that always stands out to me:
“The splinter in your eye is the best magnifying glass.”
The line invites his readers to face the misery of the world head-on rather than turn away from it. I like to interpret it this way: examine the wound, and you know best how to bind it. Don’t run to escape as soon as things get hard. If you sit a while and wrestle with the unpleasant realities of your life, you may just reach a breakthrough.
After a solid month of becoming an active participant in my own life again, I think I’m closer to that breakthrough than I was in August. And, as I work to face down the perils of reality, I’m taking on an ominously positive outlook on life, mainly because it’s funny and it actually does get me through the days. For example:
There’s another one that was unfortunately cut off in this screenshot. It says:
“Happiness is coming. You cannot stop it.”
This book is one of my favorites I’ve read this year. I think it should be mandatory reading for everyone who lives in the 21st century.
Time flies! Water your lawn