Sensitive antennae

Photo by Olivier Darbonville on Unsplash

The music producer Rick Rubin has been doing the media rounds for his new book, The Creative Act: A Way of Being, and I was taken with a recent interview he did with Ezra Klein. Klein asks him about the book’s idea that artists and creatives are really translators “picking up signals from the world around them.” Signals that other people never hear or simply choose to ignore.

I love the idea that “the best artists tend to be the people with the most sensitive antennae.” Though I’ll admit that my antennae feels pretty dull right now. One of the things I actually miss about my former journalism career is the constant pressure you’re under to find stories. Nothing will make you pay closer attention to the world around you than when your bank balance relies on the constant generation of story ideas you can pitch and sell to editors.

For much of my twenties, when I was freelancing and living in London, I would find stories literally anywhere: waiting in line for a bathroom in whatever cafe I was working in, on the long walks I’d take to avoid Tube fare, at the north London drop-in center I used to volunteer in. While this mode of living definitely had its limitations — for one thing, you basically never switch off your tired, overstimulated brain — I sometimes miss that hyper-attuned way of moving through the world. There were so many inputs, and it felt like I had all the time in the world to pursue them.

At least right now, my life has far less inputs. It’s the tail end of a winter that simply refuses to end, I have an 8 month old, the childcare hours that I do have must be treated with ruthless efficiency to get anything done. And yet, one of the surprising things I’ve found about early motherhood is that while your external inputs temporarily become, let’s face it, incredibly dull, there is an internal well that opens up within you. I notice that I feel deeply connected to things and people and experiences I didn’t feel connected to before.

Rubin goes onto say in the interview that one of the best ways for artists and creatives to cultivate this sensitive antennae is through a mindfulness practice. For me recently, that’s been this six minute guided meditation. Despite that small time commitment, it remains surprisingly hard to stick to every day, but I try and persist. In the tradition of Buddhist metta meditation, it’s a simple progression of statements: May I be safe, may I be happy, may I be healthy, may I live with ease. You first direct these statements to yourself, then to a benefactor (someone you love or admire), then to someone who’s struggling (whether you know them or not), then to all living things.

Each time I do it, I’m surprised by the varied faces and fleeting interactions with strangers that come to my mind, without me willing them there. These are not people I walk past during the day and consciously think, “ah, I must remember to direct compassion to you later.” But rather, they are impressions or conversations that ping back into my mind without force or intent.

These are my new inputs, I guess. The woman with a tiny baby I saw in the waiting room of urgent care who looked even more tired than I felt. The elderly lady in the cafe wearing purple lipstick and sitting alone shakily drinking her cup of tea. An old friend who sent a panicked, middle-of-the-night text about sending her kid to kindergarten in a country that’s all but normalized school shootings. I may have noticed these things before, but I wouldn’t have felt them in the same way.

This is not to say that mothers possess some elevated, noble, or uniquely compassionate quality by virtue of having children. But something that creatives and seekers of all stripes share in common is that they are, at the end of the day, in pursuit of connection. Thus far, my experience of motherhood — that fundamental creative act — is that it sensitizes you to the darker, harder, deeper experiences of others in a way that even the most enlightened monk or brilliant artist, sitting alone in their studio or practice, might find interesting.

Editor’s note: There was no Q&A edition in February due to various sicknesses in my household and in the households of people I was supposed to interview. But there are great ones in the pipeline for the next few months, so stay tuned.

Things I enjoyed reading

• “Existing across two such different realities can only be managed for so long before one must choose which reality resides deep in her wise gut.” Some of the best writing I’ve read on Substack. [Inner Workings]

• What on earth happened to the politics of Russel Brand? I’ve been waiting for someone to write about this. [The Guardian]

• “Algorithms can only do so much to speak to the value of a work. They can recognize value, but they can’t imbue it or take it away.” Long may artists and writers remember this! [Slant Letter]

• A deep dive into what we lose when so-called “equity language” is decreed by self-styled experts, rather than evolving organically as language is meant to. [The Atlantic]

• I’m reading so much good writing about motherhood, I feel like I could start a separate newsletter just for that. (Alas, no time.) This month: Chloe George’s blog series on maternal rage, and the

  Write Like a Mother
  Substack interview series, of which I particularly enjoyed this one and this one.

• Two fun things: Don’t forget that the most climate-friendly animal protein is also arguably the most delicious and use this step-by-step guide to taking a self compassion break.

Things I enjoyed listening to

• Actress Cate Blanchett and filmmaker Todd Field discuss the thorny and timely film Tár, which leaves the viewer to answer questions rather than telling them what to think. Turns out not all viewers can handle that. [Fresh Air]

• I’m loving the Not Too Busy to Write podcast from Penny Wincer — a woman whose creative and professional output leaves me with little excuse not to write. [Not Too Busy to Write]

• I’m optimistic that in the next couple decades, the four day workweek will become normal. [The Guardian]

Work with me

Whatever tenuous maternity leave I had is now very much over, which means I am open to taking on freelance work. So if you ned help with words, editing, content, editorial strategy, or, of course, newsletters, get in touch (rosiespinks@gmail.com). Last time I put a callout like this in this newsletter I got to work with some great clients, so I’d be delighted to hear from any of you. You can learn more about my current professional work (outside of this Substack) on my website or LinkedIn.

Word soup 

“Everything’s a cult. Your socials are full them. Cross-fit. Clean-eating. Crypto. Sweat your way to salvation. Buy your way in. All the things that claim to be a cure. Every fad, every trend, every regime. People take the things that help and turn them into identity. They confuse the condition for the cause, and sell systems for symptoms. And if it doesn’t work, that’s on you. Try harder. Double down. Submit. Wellness is a cult. Work is a cult. Love is a cult. Because if you’re not whole it’s all just a band-aid on a broken leg. It won’t fix anything.” —Portrait of a Body in Pieces

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