We interrupt the Thunderclap Series to bring you this
Public Service Announcement:
REST MATTERS.
I have recently become a huge fan of an actual-play podcast called The Critshow. It’s hosted by one of my grad school comrades, so I knew it would be good; I just didn’t know how good, or how quickly I’d get hooked, or how durn entertaining it could be to listen to other people play a game. Not even watch – LISTEN.
Let me ’splain:
The Critshow is about three dudes fighting monsters. Each character has a different set of abilities and equipment to overcome each problem thrown at them by the Keeper, or game master (my MFA colleague). They have to work together to solve the mystery, protect the innocent, and banish the baddies.
Basically, they’re acting out a story that they’re making up as they go along – but they can’t just do whatever they want within the narrative. Their success at every venture is determined by how well they roll their dice. (The good rolls are great for the characters, but it’s the bad rolls – and the players’ very vocal reactions to the bad rolls – that have made me laugh out loud on multiple occasions.)
*Note: this is my “layman’s terms” explanation of a very intricate world with which I have brief and limited experience so far. If you’re an aficionado of such games – or if the Critshow folk themselves are reading this – I beg you to have patience with my novice attempt.
It’s a unique mix of acting, writing, and gaming – storytelling in a whole new way. Considering my love for storytelling in all forms, I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised that this podcast is my new favorite thing. I look forward to making dinner or cleaning the kitchen, just so I can listen to another episode. Laughing and lamenting along with the antics of Tass, Jake, Teej, and Rev have made many a tedious hour fly by.
I have also learned a very important concept from my Critshow friends: that of “leveling up”.
See, if a player fails a certain number of dice rolls in a row, they “level up”. That means they get to take on a new ability or gift that may help them avoid further epic failure in the future.
This struck me as deeply encouraging and surprisingly profound, and gave me language to describe my current state of being.
My body is once again telling me, in no uncertain terms, that I am not yet “rolling” the correct combination of work and rest. The sleep/food/exercise ratio that has been serving me well for months suddenly . . . isn’t. Apparently, even when I’m working from home and at liberty to determine my own hours (for the most part), I can still find ways to stay up too late, wake up too early, stress myself out over self-imposed deadlines, and generally run myself ragged.
The Do-More Voice is even more deeply rooted in my core than I realized.
My first temptation when I realized all of this was discouragement. After all, isn’t “REST” a huge theme of this blog? Haven’t I already learned this lesson – again and again and again?
Then I realized: having to relearn the same lesson in a new and deeper way is not losing the game.
I’m leveling up.
For my new “skill”, methinks I shall choose a healthier approach to the sleep/food/exercise ratio. I shall also continue to seek prayerfully for the ability to give myself permission to REST.
(Sleep is important, friends. The hubs and all who love me have been telling me for years, and I think it’s finally sunk in. If you, like me until recently, are still laboring under the “I can get by just fine on 5-6 hours a night” delusion, read this article the hubs sent me this week. It was a sobering wake-up call – pun NOT intended, alas.)
While at the beach this past Sunday on a much-needed weekend getaway, I wrote this poem.
I was standing on the rocks, letting the pleasantly cold water wash over my feet, wondering how even here – here, in this place of peace and beauty – I could still feel my mind and heart racing with plans and fears and hopes and anxieties, while a vague, undefined stress cloud mushroomed in my chest. I felt a deep kinship with the waves, constantly advancing and retreating over the same piece of ground without making what the world would call “progress”.
But then I remembered: it’s not the same ground. The waves themselves are constantly changing it, renewing and cleansing and smoothing the sand and rocks with each tide – just as they were designed to do.
This is no time for discouragement. This is the time to learn deeply this new version of the old lesson, that I may meet any monsters tomorrow has in store with clear mind, joyful heart, and strengthened hand.
Time to level up.
I hope this sonnet – and the rambling words that preceded it – encourage you, friends.
In the meantime, I think I shall wander over the Critshow and let the plucky gentlemen of the IPT (Indiana Paranormal Taskforce) help me get dinner on the table. If you want to meet these new friends of mine . . . GO! Find them on Facebook or Instagram or Twitter (@thecritshow), or just head over to their website.
You’re welcome. 🙂
(Fret not: the Thunderclap Series will return next week!)
Song of the Wave
I make my steady progress up the sand
Damp through with painful labor, constant toil
But sunset curves my path into a coil
The dawn will find me further from the land
I make my dogged progress up the rock
But salt-rimmed hours of effort only break
To insubstantial foam – the noise they make
Just echoes old surrender to the clock
I make my desperate progress towards the sun
Unwitting that the moon would be my friend
She sends me, and receives me – to defend
Me from my own combustion, stops my run
Defeated, let me lean into the tide
Plant my pace in peace, and learn to glide
Love the sonnet!
So much of what you say has been the drumbeat of my life. Only now, and never yet completely, am I beginning to walk in freedom—but I am learning and it is well worth the “effort”—Scripture says, “ Strive to enter into rest , , ,”. Now I grasp this admonition as never before.