Why thinking is expensive?

I woke up this morning and began to map my desires. Reading, writing and engage in conversation with people in the valley who I quite like. I suppose one may consider this labour that I’m not getting paid for. 

Paycheques, status, and material things leave me utterly unmoved. It’s obvious I don’t fit the neoliberal view of what it means to be a functioning member of society, but truthfully, I would rather die spending my days exploring thoughts than become some corporate casualty. 

The act of thinking costs time, of course it’s never wasted and besides it isn’t ours to waste – we just simply exist within it. As someone who’s currently unemployed and sort of likes not having to work I acknowledge my privilege here. 

But this still brings guilt and shame and makes me feel dirty, like my toothbrush holder. Useless, just kind of sitting there amongst the other bathroom items that are useful, for example - a toilet brush. 

Virgina Wolf talks about the importance of a room. She said a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction. Here I think she is obliquely referring to room as a space, time for creation, removed from the distractions and judgement of society. 

‘A Room of One’s Own’ was almost out of the question when she began writing during the late nineteenth century. It was seen as a distraction from the woman’s role of being able to reproduce and complete housework, unless one was quite wealthy and educated like the Brontë sisters. 

I think this is still somewhat true. You see, for a writer, it is not all about the words, most of the time it’s in the observation. Poets need to live a life and experience the world around them – they must obsess over the wilted flowers of grief on the pavement and write in way that encapsulates this mood and feeling. Yet, to interact with the world in this way requires some financial stability and time.

Anais Nin wrote in her diaries We write to taste life twice, in the moment and then on reflection. When something has captured the attention of a writer it must be felt, it doesn’t matter how emotionally taxing the mind will reckon with all sorts of questions What? Why? How? Demanding for it to be dissolved into an image for the reader. 

This is not always a leisurely task; it can be quite emotionally taxing. I’m not asking for you to pity me because not writing would make life quite unbearable. I’m just saying that generally, we poets do like to sprinkle some mortality in there and deal with some heavy themes with only one medium that requires patience. 

On top of this there is a lot of introspection and dialogue with oneself that goes on, constantly assesing if the work lives up to your standards. It is the endless editing that never finishes and an inability to let go that’s difficult.  

If one is a passionate thinker like me and the goal is to develop this further within an institution like a university, one may consider that this leaves one in even more financial debt.

While I am not questioning how this long process may develop skills allowing one to become more dextrous with knowledge, for many this is not an option due to the expense of it. While anyone can think, making this your career is costly – not just financially but also for your time and soul.