Going Back In

What choice do we have but to keep going?

This is something I remind myself when I’m feeling frustrated by a (seemingly) impossible goal or project, slow progress, or lackluster outcomes - in my own life and/or in the collective.

When I hit a creative block, when I try something and it doesn’t work, or when I feel stuck on a project, there’s sometimes a moment when I wonder: is this the Universe finally telling me I’m a failure and it’s time to give up?

But I pull by myself back by 1) telling myself everything I know about how creativity, mastery, progress, and life work 2) asking: would quitting actually help anything? (probably not) 3) remembering that the trying itself has value.

There are times to reevaluate and change course around the details, but my intention to live a deep life means I need to keep going and always be stepping toward creativity, learning, and connection.

I think about this too in terms of our collective efforts to dismantle systems of oppression, respond to climate crisis, and build a more just society. Anyone who cares about these issues or is involved in movement work knows what it is to wrestle with despair and discouragement, to stare down impossibility and wonder where we go from here. But what would it even mean to give up on the vision?

When we’re aligned with our deepest values and moved by love, we keep going. We don’t even get to decide. We flow; we move; we engage; we connect. We find whatever hope and aliveness exist in the trying.

I’m finding more and more that living a good, deep, creative life is just a series of going’s back in, a commitment to following love to its obvious conclusion and steadfast directive:

Onward.

Art as Hope

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that art reemerged in my life at this particular moment – that my impulse to begin tinkering with watercolors happened in the midst of deep grief, hard uncertainty, and painful despair.

There have been some really hard things happening in our country and world, and I realized at some point along the way that denying, minimizing, or bypassing any of it would never work. I had to accept its realness. My task is not to make the horror other than it is. My task is to find a depth of beauty that matches the depth of despair – to find a goodness that can stand its ground and hold its truth in the presence of swirling grief.

When we have been pulled into new depths of despair, it simply means we have to go deeper to find a love that can meet it.

Art helps.

When I’m tempted to believe I’m powerless, creativity reminds me that no, actually I am still in possession of immense power. Because when I’m creating, I’m using the power of my aliveness to dream up visions, put energy into form, and recognize beauty. Art – my own and others – reminds me that aliveness is thriving, as is our collective power.

In other words, art is an answer to despair and creativity is an act of hope. Because it’s hard to keep believing there is no possibility when I am literally creating it inside of me.

So please keep creating, friends. Your art matters.