So what is Jim up to, anyway?

(Candace #17) — As Wormtongue (above, left) says to King Théoden in one of the “Lord of the Rings” movies: “A just question, my liege.”

I must get asked this question at least three times a week by dear people who are genuinely interested in our lives and probably still trying to get their minds around what Jim was thinking by quitting his job and giving up health insurance amid an ailing economy.

I think what they’re expecting to hear is something like:

- Oh, he’s writing the great American novel. Coming soon to a Barnes & Noble near you.

- Well, his band just recorded its first full-length CD. Top 40 hit on its way.

- Jim? He’s been training diligently for a triathlon. Dropped 20 pounds, nothing but muscle.

What they get instead are references to relaxing, unwinding, decompressing, playing guitar, working on songs, blogging, some writing projects, and did we mention relaxing?

What Jim and I have realized is that there’s not a formulaic answer to this question because of the nature of what we’re pursuing. Artful living — following a muse, an instinct — is a nebulous process that can’t be measured in the same way a task-oriented achievement might.

Ah, some of you are saying — that sounds like code-speak for “lazy.”

Believe me, this is often on Jim’s mind, especially when he no longer produces a list of measurable accomplishments each day. How do you explain to someone that it can take hours, days, weeks for a song to gestate and bubble to the surface? And that what’s important to that process is rest, play, listening to or viewing soulful art and music, visiting with friends, and being in nature?

We know, all too well, that our window of time for this venture might be limited. And so we’re committed to letting this artful process work itself out, as it needs to, in stutters, baby steps or in great leaps. It’s as foreign to us as to those who ask us about it. It’s already nudged us in some new directions.

We suspect those who have dedicated their lives fully to artful pursuits understand this perfectly. Here’s a passage from “The Soul Tells A Story,” by Vinita Hampton Wright:

“When people hear that I’m writing a story, they usually assume there’s some agenda. They wonder what ‘the point’ is. They react with confusion when I say that I’m merely exploring a certain theme through these characters — that there is ‘no point,’ at least not at the beginning. In our culture good, conscientious people come up with plans, steps and objectives. They are not conditioned to think in terms of a transcendent process. So any answers I give that don’t line up with an action plan create awkward silences in the conversation.”

We’ll probably have a few awkward silences when people ask about Jim’s activities. We are learning to redefine success in less tangible ways, and that’s tough to substantiate. It’s a strange fit, a new fit, but it’s growing on us.