I tell myself to ‘listen to my body’ on a fairly regular basis, and I often say it to other people too. It’s the only piece of advice I ever feel its ok to share and to receive because if you can tune in to it, the body tells us everything we need to know. What to do, what not to do, when to rest, when to act…
I’d argue that those of us with long term health conditions and disabilities might be more tuned in than those without as many health concerns.
This past couple of weeks I’ve been literally listening to my body, using a stethophone I found on one of my long trawls across the internet. The results are hit and miss on a technical level right now, but its exciting to start experimenting with sound- something my practice hasn’t really ever included (which is interesting considering I’m an ex-musician and a DJ, so sounds are pretty important to my life!) More results as they happen…
Back in April, Covid pushed my Colitis symptoms into overdrive, forcing me to spend almost a month more or less in bed, unable to do much at all. I did a lot of reading, sleeping, thinking and watching Star Trek. (Not forgetting literally hours in the bathroom in pain of course, as per my UC symptoms.)
Once my new meds kicked in, the symptoms died down, and I began a slow return to working and to my practice, I continued telling myself to listen to my body. Unfortunately last week, the symptoms started sneaking back, and I was forced to ask myself: ‘am I actually listening to what my body is telling me?’ Did I rush back into things too quickly? Do I need more rest?
Only of us is telling the truth.
The fact is, listening is one thing, but taking it in is totally another thing.
This is something I have mentioned countless times in this blog so far, but contemporary life is simply not built to incorporate rest- especially for those with health difficulties, who need to rest and recuperate more often. Rest is increasingly seen as a luxury. The reality is, as a single person experiencing an insane rise in the cost of living, and the looming need to process the effects of the pandemic on all of our lives, I find more and more that I’m not resting: rather I am collapsing, exhausted, in-between all of the things I need to do. ‘It’s a marathon, not a sprint’, I’ve been told. It’s easier said than done.
So for this blog (which is a little late) I have been thinking more deeply about resting: how do we rest?
Is a quiet weekend enough? Switching off your phone for a day? Going for a long walk? Having an afternoon nap? Spending a few hours doing something you enjoy? Has the need to be constantly ‘productive’ overtaken our ability to just do nothing sometimes and- more importantly- not feel bad about it?
(This isnt a rhetorical question: responses to this question are welcome!)
A big part of rest, for me, is time. I’ve extended my residency, and postponed exhibiting work. I’ve realised I actually need a further month to recover from a full month of illness. More time to digest (pun intended!) my current research and project means I can get excited about creating work again, rather than pressuring myself to do too much in a short space of time.
Crucially, this extra time also means I can finally share this survey I have created to gather a wider range of experiences of invisible illnesses. If you have the time to fill this out, please do (its completely anonymous). Some of the questions are quite abstract, and I’m already getting some fascinating responses, which I hope to incorporate visually into this project.
This week I’ve also been looking at the work of Whiskey Chow, currently Artist in Residence at ACCA, with whom I do hope to cross paths whilst I’m in residence at the Lab.
Their work looking at nature and the queer body resonates with me, and I love their use of digital -
“‘you must everywhere wander 你必顧盼’ is a meeting point of transgressive queer desire, a dream homeland and reality. We are what we eat, we are what we remember, we are what we believe.”
Chow is one of the current New Queers on the Block, a project by Marlborough Productions, who have been bringing radical, diverse, queer art and theatre into the world since I can remember. Do take a look at their site!
Last week, I scrambled together just enough energy to jump in a cab to see Peaches’ 20th (!) anniversary performance of Teaches of Peaches, having booked my ticket months and months ago. As a 30-something queer person, it’s impossible for me to overstate the importance of Peaches in the development of my social life, identity and music taste.
Aside from experiencing some rare Queer Joy whilst dancing in a crowd of (mostly familiar!) faces, I was particularly fascinated by the costumes which were both deliberately provocative and sexy, whilst also being somewhat visceral and monstrous: the true diversity of everything our bodies can be (which is often all of these things at once).
I headed home after a week of feeling so down and angry at my body, with a reminder to accept my body. Thanks Peaches, I needed that.
Resources:
https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/MonkeySound
GUTS: Invisible Illness Survey