Use that creativity, yo!
“Creative rejuvenation.” That’s how I’d summarize my time in Austin, TX for SXSW. I didn’t realize how much I needed it until I got it, boatloads of it; I felt alive in a way I haven’t in years. It’s really hard to be fully connected to myself and my creativity, period, let alone while also being a mother, let alone while also running a company…and, you know, cleaning up the kitchen and navigating the US health care system. To revel in my own creative company was just… magical.
And then, today, back at home in NY’s Hudson Valley, I came across this quote:
Here’s the full quote:
“Unused creativity is not benign. It metastasizes. It turns into grief, rage, judgment, sorrow, shame.”
Oof.
One of the highlights of my time at SXSW was seeing the premiere of the TV show Hacks, season 3. Being in a beautiful old theater filled with fellow fans, watching this wonderful show, felt so incredibly joyful. During the Q&A afterward, the show’s co-creator, Paul Downs, said something to the effect of,
“If you’re creative it’s like you can never turn it off. It’s like you always have homework. It’s a drive that you have.”
And I thought, YES. Yes, it is like an affliction in this way; it’s there, with me, always, and if I don’t attend to it, a form of sickness sets in. The homework pile only grows.
I can FEEL IT when I’m not creating — a kind of agitation, an off-ness, that is only remedied by writing. It truly does feel like something negative metastasizing inside of me, that the act of creation immediately dispels.
I’m fortunate that I rarely go too long without “letting it out,” but it’s also been a LONG time since I put my creativity at the center of my days, which is something I expressed grief over in my last post. There is so much that has gone un-felt and un-expressed. And I’m not sure it’s always been the right trade off.
I internalized very early on that art was a hobby, not a profession; that my analytical skills were the ones that should drive my career. Over the years, I’ve built creative expression into my life in bigger and bigger ways, but I’ve never given myself over to it. And I can’t help but wonder: What might I be capable of creating, if my life were all about creation?
For now: If you’re reading this, and it resonates, I beg you to go make something. Anything. As Julia Cameron teaches us in “The Artist’s Way,” we could sit around feeling miserable that we aren’t in Hollywood making movies, or we could pull out our phone and film something right now. The wonderful news for us creative people is that making is medicine. It may not fulfill all of our grandest dreams, but it’s MEDICINE, and it can only be self-administered.
So go on. Take a big swig. Tell me what you create.