Day's for Work, the Night's the Time to Go Dancing
Sharon June 17th, 2009
Way out on the ocean
The big ships hunt for whales
The Japanese have caught so many
That now they hunt for snails
My fisherman’s not greedy
He seems content to live
With the sun and the sand
And a net full of fish when the tide turns
Pull on the ropes, Seine haul fisherman
Never catches more than he knows
He can sell in a day;
Pull on the ropes, Seine haul fisherman
Day’s for work. Night’s the time to go dancing – Judy Collins (and Asher’s current favorite song, which is why it won’t leave my head
)
I must admit, it is a really long time since Eric and I have actually gone out dancing. Now I’ve never been one of those unusually graceful people, but I love to dance, and once upon a time, Eric and I used to go to the occasional club, and even ballroom dancing. I’m hoping we’ll get back to it one of these days.
Not, however, that we don’t have our pleasures. There is always so much work to do – on the farm, in front of our computers, with our kids, in our communities that it would be truly easy to allow the work to rise up and wash us away. Indeed, a lot of the work is enormously enjoyable – we like the garden, we like milking and cooking and sometimes even cleaning. We like the community work, I love writing and Eric loves teaching, and of course, homeschooling and caring for the boys is a job. And yet, in the aggregate, it adds up some days to feel like a lot of work.
A lot of days, after the boys are in bed, we crash on the couch, each of us reading our respective book. Occasionally, we watch a movie and do a little light evening work – Eric brushes the dog while I knit mittens, or I pluck the angora bunnies while he oils a tool or replaces a string on one of his instruments. Sometimes Eric, who is a gifted musician, plays for me, or we sit together and he plays and I sing. Often we just put our feet up, intertwined and do nothing, quietly together.
It would be easy to spend every evening that way, and it is always tempting, when we are invited out somewhere, to say no. Going out involves getting the kids in bed early, finding a sitter, getting ourselves cleaned up from the garden and decked out for public. It involves most of all finding the energy to get up and go somewhere at the end of the day, even if it is just to a friend’s house to play games, out to dinner, or to some social event at a local pub, much less dancing. Some days, getting out of the house to play seems like a good bit of work.
And yet, when I go, when I force myself to simply stop, to say that even though I haven’t dug out of the pile of writing I was supposed to do, even though the garden isn’t fully mulched, even though there’s work waiting, even though we’re tired. Part of it is that community stuff happens at the end of the day, when everyone is a little tired, but still pushes through to end the workday or week with laughter and a beer. But mostly, it is that time for play is part of the reality of a life filled with work. If you wait for the work to make the space for you to play, you’ll be waiting a long time. The only choice is simply to say “ok, I need to go do something fun, much as I like the work, it can’t be everything.” And so, we go.
One of my summer plans is that Eric and I actually do go dancing at least once. I know I won’t go out with friends as often as I’d like, I know I won’t have them over as often as I’d like. I know I won’t make it to every thing. But I am trying to remember that play is part of what makes work fun. The day is for work, and at least once in a while, the night’s the time to go dancing.
Sharon