from the Office of Creative Replenishment.
Most people I know are struggling right now in some way. From a general sense of dullness or malaise, to the suspicion that they are coping rather than thriving, to outright burnout, anxiety and depression.
It's a collective response to the compounding crises we face as humans and as a planet. Which means, if you are feeling somewhere on the kinda meh to hot mess spectrum, you are not alone, and we are not alone.
One of the forms of personal and collective renewal and replenishment available to us at all times is creativity: our own, each other's, nature's. It keeps you, me, and all the rest of us going at all times, whether we are noticing it or not.
I thought this would be a good time to call the Bureau of Tactical Imagination's Office of Creative Replenishment to offer some nuggets of support to we, the people.
The Bureau of Tactical Imagination's
OFFICE of CREATIVE REPLENISHMENT Presents:
A Tiny Treasury of Creative
Confidence Pep Talks
Choose the one most fitting, and write it someplace visible.
1. Much of what you do (and who you are) is wildly valuable in ways that live outside the logic of capitalism. Some of your most important work is not judge-able by the standards of a market. This is because you are a human being. You have more in common with a tree or a starfish or a song than with a machine part.
2. And as a human being, you are an artist. Yes, you. You live to create, and you create all the time, whether it is deemed "art" by the powers that be or not, no matter.
3. "Art" connects us to deep time, to the bigger picture, and to microscopic miracles. It is its own currency: of imagination, of care, of spirit. You already make art every time you connect with wonder, with absurdity, with strangeness, story, beauty, tragedy, with laughter.
4. Sadness, melancholy, anger, tiredness, fear, etc are feeling to be accepted and felt; and indicators that you are connected deeply to the world. This world that is full of grieving, violence, and suffering. And beauty, wonder, caring, awe and art. And trees! All of these feelings have a place in your creativity. You don't have to feel a certain specific way to create.
5. It's OK to binge watch TV shows when you are feeling low or spend an inordinate amount of time posting memes. Art is helping us spiritually survive a global pandemic. Artists have entertained us, broken our hearts, inspired us, made us laugh and charmed us with a full spectrum of works, from the most simple and hilarious to the most exquisite to the most obnoxious. Curate as you please.
6. You get to intentionally engage in creative processes that allow you to stop, focus on one thing and immerse in it. It can be an easy lift. The path of least resistance. A reminder to your body that you are human, and to create is your birthright, as inherent to you as your blood and breath. Pick up the yarn, the pencil, the keyboard, the drum, the paper, the herbs, the camera, your body, and create something simple every day.
7. There is no "good" or "bad" in your creative process. Those standards never applied and will never apply to something that simply IS: your creativity. 7. Flowers.
8. Birdsong.
9. A kiss.
10. A slice of lemon in your water.
Bonus pep talks, for branding and business:
1. Your work still matters, to you and to us.
2. Your work has already affected many more people's lives than you can know or remember.
3. Building a body of work is creative self-care and cultural world-care.
4. Your work matters - and that's a separate fact from the numbers in your bank account.
5. You can invite yourself to keep your feelings about your work's inherent beauty and your feelings about who-is-paying-you-what separate. And you can have whatever feelings you need to about each.
6. You get to bring fun creative processes into the hardest challenges you are facing in your work. How can play help each challenge?
Thanks to the Office of Creative Replenishment for these reminders. It's just so nice to not have to write all these emails myself. I'm grateful for my many departments, offices and divisions, my giant company (a worker-owned cooperative, in fact) and our tall, art deco skyscraper in downtown Providence with the eagles nesting in the top, and the roofdeck with its salt water swimming pool and ridiculously well-paid musicians and trapeze artists creating up there at all times. And our underground healing caves and geothermal hot springs. And those middle floors full of art supplies and thrifted fodder for strange inventions. Life is good.
P.S. What is YOUR imaginary workspace like?