That’s the mystery of the Rhythm Field—we can’t know how or when it changes.
It’s unpredictable, yet always, we have choices too.
– Gail Conrad

OPENING:

Hello all you Vanguards & Visionaries, Innovators & Rule-Breakers!

So glad you landed here today because—let’s break some boundaries, turn things upside down & use the chaos to create in a whole new way!

And if you haven’t already, subscribe to my podcast. This way I can let you know exactly when the next episode arrives. You can do it at gailconrad.com. That’s gailconrad.com.

And now—here we go!

(Opening continues, with MUSIC:)

Hello and welcome to the Wildscape Podcast, sharing tales of stepping into the unknown to create more art, beauty, and magic in your life. I’m your host, Gail Conrad, and today you’re listening to: (MUSIC ends)

RHYTHM FIELD!

“Make it brighter!”

My lighting designer directs me to look away, then look back.

“How’s that?” he says

“Better!” I try to relax.

Of course, it’s only later that he tells me that he changed nothing at all. He knew that I was fried.

I’m eighteen hours into a tech rehearsal for a theater show. Tech will last another two days, and most likely – another thirty-six hours more. I keep asking for the lighting to be brighter, the audio louder, the tempo of stage movement to speed up.

I’m beyond exhausted. And when I get this tired, it’s as if I’m sick—my senses shut down.

I lose perspective. I’m sitting in the dark, looking at a stage. And I need to take a break, more than Take Five.

(SHORT OUTBURST OF TAP AUDIO)

Hello everyone! Just wanted to get your attention!

Maybe add an accent, a shift in tempo, even create a bit of disruption because—I call this episode THE RHYTHM FIELD.

For haven’t we all had to change almost every rhythm in our life?

So today, I’d love for us to play with a different perspective, and see it in big bold strokes, so the next time you’re going thru a rough patch, and someone asks what many think of as the dreaded question, like….

So—what are you doing in your life?

You won’t need to freeze.

Especially if it’s just you, who’s asking it of yourself.

You’ll remember that you have this field.

For imagine this –

Picture a field that pulsates with rhythm. You can’t see where it ends. You can stand on it, feel it, see parts of it, hear it, touch it, smell it. You can even walk on it.

That’s when you realize it’s made up of patches, each with a different rhythm and story. Each story is your own.

And here’s the key—each patch has a different timeline for how long its rhythm lasts.

It grows on change and disruption. That’s how a new patch is born.

And one way to see it, is to take the bird’s eye view, so you can look at it like a map. That’s what, in total despair, I try to do when I’m thirty-three.

Only, I’m not yet ready to visit my own field, so I decide to snoop—sort of sneak a peek at the fields of others. I’ll explain.

What starts all this—is I begin counting.

I count the weeks, then the months, soon I’ll call it two years, that I’ve been lying on a couch. Okay, disclaimer—I’m doing a lot more than lie on a couch. But that’s what it appears to be. At age thirty-three, I feel like I’ve hit middle age.

And I’m counting to keep track of everything that isn’t happening, even though I’m the one who let everything go.

I just disbanded my dance theater company. Ended all touring. Friends wonder if I’m crazy or, as my manger says, “Not a way to treat success…”

And all I know is –I don’t want to do anything the same as before, but I have only fragments of ideas. I’m in a fog.

So I’m lying on the couch and decide to read. That’s when I realize that “middle age” is not the right diagnosis for me. Here’s why –

For two years, I pick up only biographies and autobiographies of people whom I admire the most, not only in the arts, but also in science, technology, philosophy, and more.

And as I read, two things pop out:

The first is: they each do their most impactful work at different points in their life, each at a different age.

And the second: many have periods of their lives—years, sometimes even decades, where outwardly it doesn’t look as if they’re doing much at all.

But in truth, most are doing a very different kind of project or work or making a huge life change. The thing is, others don’t get it, or can’t see it, appreciate it—at least not yet.

Have you ever felt this way?

You shift, but not everyone around you goes along for the ride.

And because you’re in brand new territory, sometimes it’s hard to explain, even to yourself, what you’re going through.

So…I decide to take in the stories of others. I discover that in 1942 two artistic giants, the choreographer, George Balanchine and composer Igor Stravinsky, instead of creating for opulent theaters, invent an act for Ringling Bros. Barnum & Bailey Circus. It stars fifty elephants and fifty ballerinas, and yes—the elephants do dance.

The backdrop is World War II. Getting work is tricky. Just like now, it’s a complex time.

Or I find out that the Belgian-French feminist explorer Alexandra David-Neel, starts out as a debutante and opera singer, but at age 54 she disguises herself as a beggar and scales the Himalayan mountains in winter to reach Lhasa, Tibet.

She’s the first European woman ever, to enter that holy city, becomes a world authority on Tibetan Buddhist Tantric Rites. At age 100, she renews her passport.

And let’s not limit this field to work alone. For as I read on, I think about the different points in their lives, at which people find great love, shift their sense of identity, or simply change what they care about most.

I’m going on about this because –

We’re all been hit by disruption.

How does this affect how you see yourself, and what you’re doing?

And does this shift your expectation for what you’ll do next?

Maybe it’s time to visit your field. And if you also take the birds eye view and look down, I’d say—that’s the best way to see all of the patches. I call them rhythmic shifts.

For what is rhythm other than accented beats and the length of time between them?

So think of these patches as the accented beats in your life. They hold your stories, including the ones that seem to go by fast, and the stories where time and life appear to slow.

Can you spot any of yours?

And yeah, I see mine, including those two years of reading on the couch. Before that, I’m going double-time—producing/touring/directing. Those couch years feel like an eternity.

But after that? It’s like I shift from rowboat to rocket. What I mean is—I practically jump off the couch and begin a film project. I’m on a whole new patch.

But this is more than about speed.

Think of a song that starts off soft and melodic, then BANG‑breaks out into a powerful driving beat. There’s the surprise, a shift in dynamic and energy. You’ll see this contrast all over your field.

A few years ago, I go on a picnic with a friend. We drive to a canyon in California, go up a steep road and land on this beautiful plateau, high in the hills. So we lay out our picnic and we’re lounging, half lying-down. It’s warm and comfortable.

About an hour later, we stand up, and that’s when it happens—we practically get knocked off our feet. It’s this wind! It’s like a super-cold tornado current. And it roars!

As if on cue, we fall to the ground. All quiet…all warm. Well, we can’t believe it, so we keep testing—popping up and down a few more times. It’s amazing that five feet up, there’s this huge climate shift. And we can’t feel it, from the ground.

Sometimes, it’s like this when you’re on a rough patch. You have no idea that the next one is so close and will be so different, which is why I have to mention one last thing, maybe the trickiest of all on your field:

The counterpoint.

And to get what I mean, let’s zoom down to eye level so you can land and yes, stand on your field. Take a moment. Then how about we start walking…

From this view, your field looks different. You see depth & topography that’s as varied as each patch. I use the word FIELD to give a sense of its vast expanse, but in truth, it’s a multisensory, multidimensional experience.

Now as you walk, your field acts like a Brazilian talking drum.

The counterpoint is like all the little stories that pop up and ping pong against the bigger story.

It’s the undercurrent—the complex rhythms, like how we sometimes experience beauty in the midst of a tragedy, or get hit with despair, just when we’re riding a wave of success.

So the counterpoint can feel like all the contradictions—the clashing stories.

And guess what? You notice it most when you hit a rough patch.

I remember when I’m a kid and take a roller coaster ride. A friend talks me into it. And I’m thinking, it won’t be too scary—all I see are these carts, gliding slo-mo in a curve. So I get on, but now we disappear into this dark walled-in tower and well, you guessed it—it’s nothing but terrifying twists, steep climbs and drops.

So I scream my head off and afterwards vow—I’ll never go on a roller coast again.

What do you think?

The joke is, I don’t need to go on a physical roller coaster. I get patches like that. They surprise me and pop up on my field, just like every once-in-a-while I get patches that can feel like quicksand or fog.

But afterwards, I notice that something in me shifts, and I think about my takeaway from that picnic in the canyon with its tornado wind.

For—

What if my friend and I never stood up on that spot?

And tested it–went up & down?

How would we have known that this other possibility existed? 

That it can change so fast?

And that a whole other experience can be only five feet up?

That’s the mystery of the rhythm field—we can’t know how or when it changes. It’s unpredictable, yet always, we have choices too.

The beauty of visiting your field is that you get this grand perspective. You see those nice calm patches—those easy rhythms, the ones you glide through, but may not ponder about at all.

And then you notice those other ones, the rough patches. They get your attention. And their power? They make you act!

And while you’re acting—fighting for clarity, looking for a solution, or making that hard decision at last, guess what?

Without noticing how it happens, you’re traveling.

In fact, you’re close to a border.

And if you look out of the corner of your eye, sort of sneak-a-peek, you can see that already, you’re growing a whole new patch.

Thank you.

—

I’m Gail Conrad, your host of the Wildscape Podcast, and the opening music is by Chip Barrow.

I want to ask—if you get value from this, do review it on Apple Podcasts. Those reviews make a difference, and it would mean the world to me.

And always, I love to hear from you so if you’d like to contact me directly you can go to gailconrad.com.

That’s gailconrad.com

Thanks so much for listening, and bye for now.

I say – check out your Rhythm Field!