Calling it Good: December Days
Slowing down, wintering well, endings, and what it means to look at your art and call it good.
It’s been a familiar December. It’s cold. It snowed last Sunday. The sky is grey. There is ice on the sidewalks — to go out anywhere one needs to allot an extra 5-10 minutes to endure the ritual of putting on the coat, hat, mittens, boots, and scarf. It takes me longer to walk to the train because my legs feel colder, slower, my brain is frosted, and, yeah, the sidewalks sometimes resemble an ice rink.
It’s not just December, but it’s also the end of a season of time. The year is closing out, and as I open Notion every morning and look at the tasks and responsibilities listed before me, the work that must be accomplished before Christmas and New Years, I see that slowly but steadily things are coming to a close. Checked off. Completed. Delivered. Finished. All good sounding words. My list of “things to deal with in 2023” is growing, but overall, I feel done.
I’ll be honest, it’s mixed feeling. A messy done feeling. December has been filled with mistakes — I’ve let people down, I’ve let myself down. I’ve had to schedule and reschedule a lot of clients who are all having emergencies, or pushing branding to the new year. Socially, it’s been weighty. My pride and self-sufficiency have revealed themselves in ways that disappoint me and make me want to retreat in frustration and shame. Friends are leaving my church, others are battling with illness and death, still others feel the death of dreams. December feels equal parts festive and equal parts crises-month.
I’ve been following the Advent prompts from Every Moment Holy and this week’s reading said:
Among us are some who arrive anxious,
some who are lonely,
some who suffer pain or sorrow.
May we in our joys find grace
to enter the sorrows of others.
Among us are some who arrive rejoicing,
Hearts made light by good news,
good health, glad anticipation.
May we in our sorrows find grace
to embrace the joys of others.
I know I’m not capable (or asked) to have the emotional capacity to resonate with everyone and myself at the same time, but there is a call for grace to bridge that gap and be present. Grace is real. Grace means that we can be present, in a sacrificial way, where we grow richer in the presence of perceived lack — mistakes and sorrow and all. There is grace for crises, grace for joy. Who might we meet in this wilderness?
Calling it Good
At the end of each narrative day of creation, God saw all that he had done and called it good. The concept of imitating the Creator of the universe in resting after work, and calling it good, has been key in sustaining a vocation in the arts.
So, I write this to remind myself:
Most days I make, deliver, and move on too mechanically, especially when it comes to projects that I have less vested interest. So when Matt Conner’s Call It Good podcast came into the world this past spring & summer, it provided a helpful ritual for slowing down and releasing the work.
I feel like I’ve missed this important step in understanding my work as an act of art and faith. The intersection forces us to acknowledge that when we are done making something, we need to step back and call it good. No matter what stage of making we are at, at days-end we need to call it good. What does that mean?
Calling it good acknowledges that it all comes from God. How often do I want to finish up a project and move on to the next one? Or feel anxious because clients are shifting around? Or cut corners because I feel like there isn’t enough? Or feel insecure about the work I make? All the time. But calling it good is a way of acknowledging that God is the one who gave me the work to do, and it all belongs to Him. It’s from Him, it belongs to Him, it’s all His. He’s in charge. He is at work.
It’s not a moral good, or a moral litmus test. I believe it was in Helena Sorenson’s interview with Matt Conner where she emphasized that when we ask ourselves and others “is what I’ve written good or bad? is the photo good or bad? is the music good or bad?” we are asking the wrong question — detrimental, even. When we “call it good” we are not saying that what we’ve made has fibers of moral good or not (yet) — we are stating that us engaging with the process and responding to the call to make something is, in fact, a moral good. We have to acknowledge that.
Practically, if I’ve had a staring contest with AL, and all the colors feel wrong, or the design boards are built, or the creative consultation is finished but it’s a mess, and I know I have to revise it all the next day, I still have to step back and call it good.1
The human heart jumps to judging the possibility of a thing. Asking if a creative idea is a good one or not is not a helpful question. We haven’t even explored the idea. Helena talks about how, since the existence of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, it is a fundamental human addiction to hastily name something good or bad. The best way to suck the joy out of anything is to quickly label it in the parameters of good or bad. It’s a dead end. She says “you can lay hands on something, try it, fail, and still call it good.” Creativity requires a non-judgemental openness in order to show us its highest potential. One of my favorites ways to get creative is to take an idea to the extreme. No parameters, no laws of nature, no rules. It’s an idea — and the point is not to figure out if this will work in the real world, it’s to figure out if my imagination is functioning.2
My application here is that in work, and specifically a vocation in the arts, we need to learn to pause, rest, celebrate, mark the moment, and call it good before moving on. This can be a daily and weekly rhythm — but I’m realizing it’s also a yearly rhythm. It’s not a New Years resolution. It’s an old year recognition.
Endings before Beginnings
What needs to end? This is a new question that I’m asking. What needs to be marked-as-done in life, friendship, work, activity, etc. that gives back the ability for something new to be born? This might be a soul-minimalist question, but one I’ve been thinking about a lot.
What tabs need to close?
When my housemate Chelsie left to move to Korea this past August, she actually left. And I don’t mean just literally. She left a lot of her close friends, her work, her family, and her church in a way that deeply communicated her love for us but also released us from the expectation or pressure to maintain close communication. Her presence was always the close communication. She didn’t get to Korea and try keep the tabs open back home, she just jumped right into her new surroundings and started building — she started offering the new people around her the gift of her presence.
This was one of the most inspiring things I’ve witnessed this past year. She gave us a beautiful ending (don’t get me wrong - it wasn’t a morbid, drop-off-the-face-of-the-earth kind of exit). It was a celebration of time. It was calling it good. It was being honest and brave enough to admit that a season was coming to an end. She is someone who fully understands what it means be present wherever she is. In a world where the tabs always seem open to everyone and every place, where time gets warped by technology, and we are disillusioned by visions of false infinity, human growth can escape us altogether.
So, what needs to end? What needs to be celebrated, acknowledged, and then laid to rest?
It’s amazing what new life can grow once there is space and intentionality for it to be born.3
Someone should make an Advent comparison, it won’t be me because I’m still deep in the middle.
This may seem like a no-brainer, but those who work vocationally as a creative will understand the struggling of properly ending a day without the existential dread of feeling like art is only abandoned and never finished. Or the small business owner crises of feeling like one has never worked long enough. Or the subsequent imposter syndrome about, well, everything.
For example: I recently had an idea to host an elaborate murder mystery dinner party. It was ridiculous, but extremely fun to think about. When floating the idea to others, some people approached it with shut-down-practicality. No imagination. Others helped me go even more wild with the idea to the level of absurdity. It’s important have people in your life who understand the imagination assignment. Practice dreaming.
More to come.
Wow I love this Liz!
My fav parts:
- When we “call it good” we are not saying that what we’ve made has fibers of moral good or not (yet) — we are stating that us engaging with the process and responding to the call to make something is, in fact, a moral good.
- The human heart jumps to judging the possibility of a thing. Asking if a creative idea is a good one or not is not a helpful question. We haven’t even explored the idea.
Thanks for writing down your thoughts, some things really put in words ideas I've had or come across :)
Love reading your thoughts.