The Pokemon franchise caught hold of me in my teenage years, and it never truly let go. Not only did it speak to my love of hunting unique creatures, it allowed me to catch and wield them as my own treasured battle companions.
And, it inspired me to write my own twists on companion creatures into my novels.
The Pokemon in the top left of the image is girafarig—one of my favorites. Most girafarig have a pink nose; this one's nose is blue. This makes it "shiny" and therefore incredibly rare and special. Any Pokemon in the game can be shiny. The odds of finding one are about 1/4000. Of course, I caught this gem of a creature.
Playing Pokemon games are a lovely distraction from life's bustle, but is playing them a worthy use of my time? This is one of those open-ended questions. The answer I give may depend on the day, my mood, or what's going on in the real world.
And we all have these pastimes that make us wonder: should I be doing something more worthy of my time?
Time is precious for many reasons. No one knows how much time they have in this life, and no one can make more of it. "Buying time" is a cute expression, but we all know money cannot actually create more time. On it goes, carrying us down an unstoppable stream.
If I'm not careful, I can look at how much time I've spent playing games and think damaging thoughts like, "I could have written another entire novel instead." While this may be true, the concept of rest and regeneration comes into play. The best analogy I've ever heard for creativity is about the fruit tree. It can only produce a harvest in its season. Then, the tree must rest. During this period, it uses energy to grow, recover from infestations or damage, shed its leaves in certain climates, and set the next season's fruit.
Nature applies this rule of regenerative cycles automatically; humans do not.
Culture, internal or external expectations, deadlines, and other pressures bombard us every day. The messages are clear:
"Don't stop, or you'll get left behind." (But behind, what or whom?)
"This person/company/group will drop you if you don't perform at 100%." (Maybe they don't deserve my best?)
"Everyone else is way ahead already." (Ahead in what terms?)
The more I read and listen to others' stories, the more I wonder why we're all in some crazy competition to pack our schedules. Some people thrive off the business of life, but genuine connection can't happen in a rush. When a family member squeezes me into their schedule, and are too distracted to connect during our meeting, we may as well not have met. Families do not thrive when one or both parents are too busy to invest in their children. A marriage falls apart without intentional quality time on a regular basis. It hurts when the people we love tell us they've been too busy to call. We've all felt this, but I am guilty of doing it, too.
Who set these standards? Who are we trying to impress? Who am I worried about disappointing if I sink a couple of hours of my free time into a Pokemon game? My husband? Myself?
Yes, I could spend every spare second writing, reading books and articles on how to write better, or editing one of my drafts. I could have written twelve novels by now instead of eight. I could have hovered over a new short story while I ate my breakfast instead of turning on Pokemon.
But I also may have missed out on that plot-filling epiphany I had while my mind wandered—while I was chasing girafarig in a digital field.
This is where I have to remind myself that it's okay to slow down. A life done well isn't constantly rushed. It's intentional. It's messy. It's dusty corners in my house and a pile of laundry. It's putting off menial chores for a little while so I can recharge. It's forgiving myself for indulging in my own breathing room.
The more I remind myself that it's okay to clear my schedule, the more I enjoy my path and the little things on it. The more time I make for people I love. The more I enjoy this journey, one breath at a time.
Keep on smilin'!
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