The news has made me weep almost hourly and I am done with feeling outraged, feeling powerless and feeling frightened.
It’s time to reclaim our creative power and become a relentless force for kindness.
And when I say “time” I mean right now. This very minute.
We creatives have been OK with taking a back seat for too long.
The time for change is now. This very minute.
If you want to live in a world in which creativity matters, then you must act like creativity matters.
Yours first.
And then everyone else’s.
If you want to live in a world of compassion and tolerance, then you must behave compassionately and tolerantly.
Starting with yourself.
Then everyone else.
This means:
No name-calling.
No blaming.
No eye-rolling.
No over-dramatizing.
And most of all: no quitting.
This means:
You don’t get to call yourself, “lazy” or “a failure” or “not good with money” anymore.
You don’t get to point the finger at the family, the teachers, the economy or the media and blame them for your lack.
You don’t get to stand on the sidelines and pretend like the world economy doesn’t have anything to do with you.
You don’t get to huff around making loud noises about moving to Canada when there is a whole world of people out here who need your art, your stories and your voice more than ever before.
I know it’s hard.
I know it’s hard to not let the state of the world turn your mood dark.
But our weapon is the light.
Our weapon is politeness, good humor, firm resolve without violence and most of all, of creativity.
The time to find unusual solutions and out-of-the-box ideas is now.
We’ve let those other guys be in charge for too long, and it’s time we reclaimed our rightful place as the shamans, jesters, prophets, documentarians, dancers, poets, potters, teachers, healers, music-makers, magic-makers and makers-of-things.
Our work brings people together.
Our work reminds people of our shared humanity.
After all – we all want the same things.
We all want to eat good food and love somebody special.
We all want to feel like our work matters.
We all want to laugh at good jokes and be with our friends, especially when times are especially good or especially hard.
All of us.
Every person of every stripe throughout all time has wanted these things.
So if you want to bring people together, do it around the things that you have in common.
I’ve heard that marriage equality progressed faster than anyone thought it could thanks to “Will and Grace.”
And I know for a fact that “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” helped end slavery.
Matthew Bourne’s “Swan Lake” changed our ideas about masculinity, and Neil DeGrasse Tyson is now regularly on my old friend Stephen Colbert’s Late Show, making astrophysics cool again.
And wasn’t it teeny-bopper-Tweeter turned pop-culture-goddess-superstar Taylor Swift taking the stand against sexual harassment this week?
Art matters.
Artists matter.
You matter.
So do not allow yourself to sink into despair.
Rather: allow yourself to sink into the work that has been calling your name.
You don’t know how much your novel, your sexual empowerment workshop, your yoga, your paint (or paint-by-numbers) might change the world.
So don’t let anyone (not even the voices in your head) tell you that your work is foolish, is selfish, is unnecessary or should be put off until tomorrow.
It is time to be a relentless force for creativity, kindness and joy. This very minute.
At Crossfit on Saturday, I was really challenged by one of the exercises.
(To be fair, I’m challenged by nearly ALL the exercises at Crossfit. Crossfit is no joke.)
I was sweating and panting and red-faced and getting lapped by everyone else in the group. I felt weak and frustrated and left behind. I felt like a failure. I wanted to cry. I did cry. I was mad and exhausted and my arms and legs were shaking. My only thought was, “Just don’t quit. Just don’t quit. Just don’t quit. You can suck at this, you can go slow, you can hate it but you CANNOT quit.”
All the while, I was seriously considering quitting.
Just then, the instructor came over to me and asked, “Does it hurt? Or is it just hard?”
I looked her in the eye.
“It’s just hard,” I said.
She said, “OK. Good.”
And she walked away.
I’ve been thinking about that a lot: some things are just hard. But as long as no one’s getting hurt, it’s worth it to keep going.
You’ve asked me the same questions over and over and over again.
And mostly they have to do with discomfort.
“I’m not sure my work is good enough.”
“I’m an introvert so I never go to events or conferences.”
“I clam up when it’s time to state my prices.”
“I feel like everyone’s going to know that I’m a fraud.”
“I’m totally tech-phobic.”
And you let these persistent thoughts keep you stuck in the dim grey of not-doing.
And the world spins on.
You don’t start your business.
You don’t write your book.
You don’t make enough money.
You don’t make friends with powerful people.
You don’t fulfill your creative promise.
And the world spins on.
Waiting for your work.
Waiting for you to be bold.
Waiting for you to share your heart with us.
It’s like we’re in some odd stand-off: the world is waiting for your art, and you are waiting to feel comfortable.
This is totally backwards.
You will never feel comfortable BEFORE you take a risk.
You only feel comfortable afterwards.
(And, to be frank, sometimes not even then.)
So you dwell in a twilight of discomfort.
No crashing failures.
No exhilarating leaps of faith.
Just the slow drip of
“I’m not ready,”
“I’m not sure,” and
“Now’s not a good time.”
And the world spins on.
But honey – now is the ONLY time there is.
All of us – we only have today.
Tomorrow is promised to no one.
So please –
Grab your discomfort by the nape of the neck and drag it along with your art into the clear light of day.
And I promise – if you smile while you do it, we will be so dazzled by your bravery that we won’t notice if you wobble a bit.
Smiling and wobbling our way into the future, together we can make this world a better place.
That person who expressed interest in your work, but you never followed up with them…and now you think that too much time has passed, so you don’t reach out to them.
The friend who was having a tough time, and you wanted to call or write, but you got busy and now it feels weird.
The thank you note you didn’t send.
The invitation you never made.
The opportunity that passed you by.
It’s a TERRIBLE feeling, isn’t it?
Guess what?
It feels terrible because it’s FALSE.
It’s not too late.
It’s never too late.
As long as you have breath in your body, it is never, ever, ever too late.
If you are still thinking about it, then the possiblity is still alive.
The fact that it is still on your mind means that it is NOT TOO LATE.
But there is a challenge here:
You are going to have to change.
You are going to have to sacrifice
– your perfectionism
– your embarrassment
– your discomfort
– your misplaced pride
– your big idea that you know how long something is supposed to take
and GIVE IN to the DESIRE you have to take action.
It’s time to put on your Big Girl Panties.
And I know — you think about reaching out to that person, or pursuing that opportunity, and you cringe.
It feels scary.
But trust me: you would not still be thinking about it if it weren’t the right thing.
And who knows? Maybe NOW is an even better time than before!
Maybe now is the perfect time.
So here….to make it easier for you, I’ll give you a little script to use:
“Hello X,
I find myself still thinking about you and XYZ today, so I wanted to follow my intuition and reach out.
If it feels right, I’d love to connect. Are you available to talk on DAY at SPECIFIC TIME or OTHER DAY, OTHER TIME?
If not, no worries – but I’d be remiss if I didn’t even ask.
I hope this finds you well.
Yours,
Me”
Take a chance.
Turn that regret into action.
Open yourself up to some new information.
I wrote a longish post on Facebook last night that’s gotten waaaay more likes, comments and shares than anything else I’ve ever written.
Apparently, I hit a nerve.
So I thought I’d share it with you all, too.
NOTE: there is strong language in this.
As you know, depression is a black-hearted fuckshop of a disease – insidious and all-enveloping. After being mostly symptom-free for the past year or so, the last few weeks have been kind of a nightmare. It was a bit shocking to me how swiftly I hit bottom.And because I have “atypical depression” – which despite its name is actually quite common – I can function well in public situations. Atypical depression is not the “can’t get out of bed and crying all day” kind of depression. It’s the “inside a glass box” kind – it looks like everything’s pretty normal, but on the inside you feel utterly alone and completely dissociated. It turns the whole world into a horror show.
I hung in there, though: fought it when I could fight, and laid down quietly when I could fight no more. I prayed, I walked, I did all the stupid things people suggest you do when you’re depressed (take a walk, do something nice for someone else, get a massage, make some art…) all of which are like throwing pebbles at a dinosaur.
Finally – yesterday – the cloud lifted and so far I’ve had 24 hours of non-stop joy.
Here’s what joy looks like: I can taste food. I can breathe. I can feel actual gratitude for my actual life. Nothing fancy. Just the amazing sensation of experiencing energy and desire and being able to think actual thoughts rather than just drown in a sea of self-loathing all day.
Normally I would keep this kind of thing quiet, because it’s private, and in many ways, it’s none of anyone’s fucking business. But I realize that because of what I do and the books I write, people sometimes think that I never have a bad day. Which would be hilarious if it weren’t so tragic.
So, to everyone who is forced to make the choice, every day, to stay on this grassy, ocean-y planet no matter how much it hurts, I salute you. I wish you forgiving friends, loving partners and soft landings. I bless your beautiful sensitivity, your aching heart and the spiritual mastery that you are demonstrating every time you don’t just give the fuck up.
I don’t have any advice, because advice is bullshit. But I will remind you of this: the tragedy of depression is that it convinces you that you will never, ever, ever, ever, ever feel better. And that is a giant fucking lie. You will feel better. Maybe only 1′ better, but still – better. And you matter. You matter to me.
