My husband and I like to watch TV together after the girls (finally) go to bed: we go through jags of obsessive show-watching that become part of our shared language and repertoire of catchphrases and inside jokes. It all started back in ye olden days of TV shows on DVD, when we got hooked on The Shield and ended up at Blockbuster at 11:30 at night checking out the next disc. In the past, we’ve gorged on sitcoms such as The Offices both UK and USA, Arrested Development, and Spaced; and when parenthood wore down our ability to follow shows with plot (sorry, The Wire) or intense brutality (Brian did The Sopranos solo), we turned to non-fic. And lo, the umpteen series of Top Gear did flow like water, as did every available season of Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations. More recently, we’ve turned to rockumentaries because we are both rock afficianados, amateur musicians, and wannabe hippies. We’ve watched many a feature-length rock-doc (and highly recommend Stones In Exile, Amazing Journey: The Story of The Who, and Pearl Jam Twenty), but favor the series Classic Albums, which offer recaps of some of the greatest albums ever made in an easily digestible 60-minute format.
Don’t mistake Classic Albums for some hack version of Behind the Music: it features legit interviews with all (living) members of the band, producers, at least one scene in which they play isolated tracks and discuss the recording technique, and a lot of detail about how the actual songs came to be. In other words, it’s not about love, loss and heartbreak or sex, drugs and rock and roll (although those form the context from which the music emerges): it’s about the music. It’s really a show about extremely talented people finding each other and working at their creative peak. Maybe you don’t like Rush, but you will come to admire and respect their genius when you realize that Rush came thisclose to breaking up because their drummer quit right when they hit the big time. You’ll be amazed that they find a replacement who is even more perfectly suited to their style: it will give you hope in second chances.
I don’t care if you hate hair bands and think Mutt Lange is an overproducing hack, you cannot deny Def Leppard’s talent after watching them pull together Hysteria, which is, as they say in the show, a Greatest Hits album written before the hits become #1 singles. And watching Rick Allen recover from amputation to be an amazing drummer (awesome drummers: theme!) is fucking inspiring.
I’ve noticed that lately I will watch these shows with a strange hunger, cueing them up as I do the dishes or as backdrop to whatever play the girls are into (they are happily family-friendly and give me the bonus of not hating every blessed second they’re on, unlike, say, Angelina Ballerina). I’m hooked, but I walk away from the shows feeling a strange mixture of elation and depression. They make me feel both happy and sad. They make me feel… old.
I realized the other day that I am also experiencing something akin to jealousy when I listen to the Stones talk about living and playing 24/7 in a villa in the South of France, or The Band converting Sammy Davis Jr’s pool house into a makeshift studio to record “Up on Cripple Creek.” There seems to be something magical about throwing a lot of talented folks into a house together and not interrupting them. I wanted to be a musician so badly as a kid – it was the main thread in my many, many embarrassing romance stories – but we didn’t have the resources to get instruments or lessons. I loved the idea of performing, and now I can also see that I loved the notion of collaboration and creativity. Musing on this, I posted a status on facebook that asked:
What is the literary equivalent of being in a band? Because I want that.
I think in some weird way, I thought grad school would provide that kind of experience: a lot of supersmart people, staying up late, talking, collaborating, and coming up with new and exciting ideas. Sure, they may not be creative, but at it’s best, the life of the mind is about innovation. When I couldn’t find that in music, I turned to strengths I already possessed: namely, my brains. And there were late-night talks in college, fueled by Marlboro Reds and gin and tonics that came close to that kind of ecstatic kinship where we all shared a frequency, stumbled to finish each other’s sentences, and connected on some deeper level (although these flashes of insight were as likely to be shared with a group of women discussing the music we wanted to play at our weddings as it was a mixed group discussing Hemingway – I’m looking at you, Kara “In Your Eyes”!). Perhaps it’s a truth universally acknowledged that an intellectual who thrives at the college level must be in want of more of that. I went to grad school not just because I thought I was a hotshot, but because I wanted to connect more with more smart people, people who I might be even more likely to meld with in that thrilling way. People who might be able to make something happen.
I was talking to my therapist about this (oh yes, therapy is a requisite when you abandon grad school: get yourself a good one) rising desire for something interesting to happen, for something exciting to come along, and she said (at some point, during some conversation), “It makes sense – as humans, we seek those kinds of ecstatic experiences.”
And she hit the nail on the head: I find myself thinking a lot about that kind of ecstatic experience in which you feel on point, absorbed, and fire on all cylinders. This state of “flow,” as described by the brilliant Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, is:
“…our experience of optimal fulfillment and engagement…being completely involved in an activity for its own sake. The ego falls away. Time flies. Every action, movement, and thought follows inevitably from the previous one. Your whole being is involved.”
(Read more about flow here and here at The Memeing of Life – “flow” is actually a concept I’ve run across in my grad studies in literacy education, believe it or not.)
Unshockingly, grad school failed to deliver the goods on flow or ecstasy or even connections with other brilliant minds. But I’m still left with that desire, and also worried that I missed my chance to strike out and try something. I mean, flow requires some things I don’t have: namely time, energy, and uninterruptibility. I am experiencing flow right now because I’m writing and I fucking love writing, but it’s only because my husband is distracting my kids with cheese and crackers and Spongebob, and I guess since part of me is hyperaware of that, I’m not really flowing, I’m just working really fast before things fall apart.
I want flow, but where? When? How? Do I look for a job I really love? Did I ever experience flow as a teacher? I love teaching intensely, but I think I’m seeking some kind of social aspect of flow that involves connecting on a deep level with other human beings, and trying to get at-risk college kids to get into books (even when they’re willing) or first-years to think critically about public education policy is a bit too teeth-pulling to fit the bill. Is there any job where people experience true flow, or can it only be found in those deeply personal pursuits that bring joy (sports, sex, music, reading)? It strikes me time and time again that the guys in Classic Albums bands (and that show is sadly and overwhelmingly male, and white) are in their twenties or early thirties and unencumbered by children. I’ll never be like that: I will never be younger or without family concerns. Where can I go with this? What can I do? It makes me sick to think that I clawed my way through school in pursuit of some personal peak, and now I am starting back at square one with no idea what mountain I should climb next, and a lot of things weighing me down when it comes to striking me in a new direction (my kids aren’t “weights” but jaysus, the fatigue is!).
I’m not sure where I’m going with this, I’m just putting it out there. I find myself in need of something bigger. Grad school wasn’t it, and I’m not convinced work is it, either. So? What is it? And if you’re in the mood to feel the same way, you can watch most episodes of Classic Albums streaming on Netflix, or in chunks on Youtube. We like these best of all, although YMMV because it does help a lot if you also enjoy the music and are familiar with it:
- Pink Floyd: Dark Side of the Moon
- Def Leppard: Hysteria
- John Lennon/The Plastic Ono Band: John Lennon/The Plastic Ono Band
- Rush: 2112/Moving Pictures
- Duran Duran: Rio
- The Band: The Band
Paul and I love these programs too! I completely understand what you’re saying about these programs sparking a desire for creativity and community. I wish I had the answer as to how to find similar flow in a job/career. If I get there or figure it out, I’ll let you know.
And yay! Rush! I’m a ridiculous Rush fan.
If you’re a fan, I really recommend checking out Neil Peart’s books. I found his book on grief _Ghost Rider_ really powerful. (I have a post on my blog about it.) I find, too, that he’s getting better with each book. The most recent collection of his, mixing short stories with photographs, had some great, great pieces in it.
Also kind of cool about Rush, these are guys who did get married really young. I think Alex Lifeson had a son in high school and was married by his late teens/early 20s. Geddy Lee and Neil Peart were married with families young too. Granted, the guys went and recorded/toured for months/years on end while their wives stayed home with the children, but I have also heard them speak a fair amount about how they tried to develop a good life/work balance. I respect their attempts for healthy families and a healthy band by keeping “teacher’s schedules” (Their term. When they had young kids they would work 9 months and “play” during the summer. *Snort* I guess none of them were ever really teachers, but…). OK…I promise I’ll stop talking about Rush now. I could go on and on….
I love your Rush love. I will check all these out. I loved that ep of Classic Albums.
Yes to all of this.
I was completely shocked by how individualistic grad school is, and by how dissatisfying that aspect was for me. I think because I was coming from a tiny, residential, liberal arts college, I was very accustomed to a near-constant availability of social and intellectual camaraderie (not to say that I always took advantage of it, but at any given hour of day or night, it was possible to find someone to party with and/or someone to have an intense political discussion with and/or someone to give you feedback on that essay that’s due in 6 hours, and probably you could find those people without going outside.) Not to equate dorm life with flow, obviously, but there was a certain awesomeness to it that I did not appreciate until I was isolated in my crappy grad school apartment with no idea how to find any of the above people.
I once got in an intense argument with a friend about whether I would rather be Bruce Springsteen or f$%& Bruce Springsteen. I’m well aware that I’m more likely to find flow in the front row than on stage– I’m a fan, not a rock star. But replicating that front row feeling in my daily life? I got nothing.
Flow – I got into that space making art: drawings, paintings, collages, sometimes even writing papers. It’s great; nothing beats that no-self state of grace. I agree with you about needing to be unencumbered to access that internal space where ego melts away. I guess the last place I really found it was in labor. Then, the baby came out, and buh-bye flow state until they are old enough to leave you in peace for more than 15 seconds at a time.
The problem with flow and small children is that my ego-agenda is usually at odds with their ego-agenda. The only time we are in harmony is if I can totally let go of my agenda to fully enter their world on their terms. It’s an exercise for me, and I have no idea if they even notice the internal struggle I go through to set aside my ideas about the nice craft project we will complete (they are process oriented, not product oriented, and they’ll be damned if they will make any dumb get well soon cards for their grandmother), the way the table should be set (totally cool that one place has three forks and a spoon, another one has no plate, and the only two people merit napkins today), cleaning up that one last thing before I turn my attention to them, and what time IS bedtime anyway.
I highly recommend “I am Trying To Break Your Heart,” the Sam Jones documentary about Wilco. Jeff Tweedy is a consummate musician, and he hauled his small kids and a long-suffering-patron-of-the-arts (his wife) along on tour. There is a memorable scene when they are at some fast food joint and he does a sniff check to see if his kid has pooped his pants (and then, if I recall correctly, hands kid off to his wife). There are also some really sweet videos on youtube of him and his kids playing music together, showing that there is hope for your future.
I also suspect a lot of people find the flow state in religious settings, especially if they involve lots of singing and dancing in big groups (not unlike a rock concert, yes?) Being way too stodgy to bust it for the Lord, I have found that sitting zazen for at least 45 minutes offers the possibility of a quiet mind for 3 minutes before the bell rings, but it been a long time since dem days too. One of the main trainings/goals/suggestions/side effects of sitting and meditating on a regular basis is that you can (I have heard, though not often experienced) become more present to what is going on at a given moment, and ultimately, you achieve moments of enlightenment doing the ordinary: chopping wood, standing in front of a Jackson Pollock painting, sweeping, loading the dishwasher, cleaning up macaroni and cheese vomit off the floor at 2 a.m.
Yes, religious experiences are totally related to flow. I’ve always struggled with remaining present (I’ve written about this before): even at times, I have found it hard to enjoy concert experiences. I have a real problem shutting off my brain and staying in the moment. What you say about ego-agendas totally makes sense to me, and makes me feel sad, because my kid’s agendas are great and I’m such a krabby patty at times. Clearly, I need to work on this!