Heaven is in everything: follow the light, hide in the cloudiness and begin in what is.
- Chuang Tzu, The Tao of Nature
Thank you for bearing with me while I worked on finishing a redraft of a project. I’m pleased to say I’ve done this now, and am back here on Substack to write about the ins and outs of creative life. And given this recent (mid-project) achievement, I wanted to turn my attention to a topic that is important and very underserved: celebrating your wins and finding joy in the process.
I’ve written a lot in past months about dealing with the downsides of the creative process. From obstacles and pressures, external and internal, there’s been a lot of difficult subjects on my mind, because creating is hard work. Of course it is. But equally, it’s joyful and motivating and expansive. The act of self-expression is often a focus, but there is so much more to it - the desire to understand others, unpack ideas, contribute beauty to the world, etc.
The concept that creativity is all uphill struggle and sacrifice is one I have often objected against. I love making things; I wouldn’t do it if there wasn’t something positive within it. And I think the focus on overcoming and pushing through is partially a hangover of the Romantic notion of the artist as a sacrificial lamb on the altar of culture and human consciousness-raising. If you see the artist as god-like or in some way, enlightened, then it feels right to say there is a cost to performing this function. But I prefer the ‘humble craftsperson’ (as Atwood says), and therefore, I reject the idea that sacrifice is all there is - actually, I think the fact that I am a humble craftsperson gives me the freedom to explore and make mistakes and be better at what I do. The burden of the struggle to achieve ‘genius’ makes it practically harder to actually be that genius (see Atwood’s On Writers and Writing for more on this).
All this is not to discount the difficulties, which are numerous in such a vulnerable endeavour as art-making. It’s also now beyond an Instagram-cliche to see quotes about the importance of concentrating on the positives, or being grateful for what you have, etc. There is very legitimate scientific backing to practicing gratitude particularly as regards mental health; gratitude is invariably very important for maintaining a general positive outlook and appreciation for one’s own lot in life, which is important. But I want to know: is there another benefit in focusing on the joy specifically? What role does this occupy in my practice, and more broadly, my life?
It might seem squishy, but I don’t care. Let’s luxuriate in some joy-seeking. Let’s be earnest for a moment.
The necessary processes of good living
A fulfilling creative life is one in which the creative process merges with the other necessary processes of good living, which only the individual can define…
- Melissa Febos, Body Work
The ‘other necessary processes of good living’ are vast and varied. You might include any number of obvious elements here: a good diet, exercise, an active social life, accessing secure housing, etc. But humans aren’t just made of material needs. We talk about this so often in the context of modern life depreciating or in some way downplaying the spiritual sense of one’s place in the world. So many online gurus bemoan the lack of God in our lives before plugging their own interpretations of Godliness, which invariably repeat old hierarchies. The pseudo-spirituality of certain online niches is not a great substitute, as they so often come back to material consumption (though I do also think they often start out by trying to find the real spiritual sense that has been lost. I don’t, therefore, totally judge this effort all that negatively; it just seems misguided in the end). How are we meant to find something real to hold onto?
I personally have long felt uncomfortable around the kind of person who is militantly material; I just don’t understand this position. I remember the 2000s/2010s when militant atheism was all the rage, and some of the incredible judgement and backlash I received for not having a clear and precise answer on the subject of spirituality (which revolved around the idea that it was somehow stupid or wrong to believe in anything). But we all believe in something; even the lack of a spiritual guide is a choice. The worst outcome, to me, was always the one in which the discussion itself was framed as not worth having, or somehow, a foregone conclusion. Is there a more anti-freedom, anti-tolerance position than saying we can’t even have a discussion because the discussion itself would be to play into something ‘stupid’? Any attempt to eliminate nuance or expression makes me feel very uncomfortable indeed. Everyone is entitled to their explanation of what is going on with this whole existence business. But for me, the desire to think about the bigger, squishier, spiritual elements of a life are not ‘silly’ or secondary. I also don’t agree that this runs in direct conflict with the scientific yearning for understanding. But I digress. The concept of life as purely about what you can have, hold, see, taste, etc, feels limited and limiting. It is a kind of tunnel vision that I don’t understand. But if it works for you, all power to you. It doesn’t work for me.
It doesn’t work for me, as a creative, because I have less clear, less concrete requirements from my existence - I seek those less clear elements out in my work. I recognise those fuzzier concepts in the work that I enjoy engaging with, too. And I make things precisely because I want to connect to something bigger than myself and engage with those ideas. I seek out my place in the bigger scheme of things because my purpose is not divisible from my process.
What is my process about, outside continually seeking out and refining my purpose or the purpose of my life as a human? I might focus on a much more simple, micro element of this human experience - I might narrow in on one idea that feels compelling. But any exploration of this one idea is akin to focusing on a raindrop that feeds into a river. It will form a part of that bigger ecosystem that is my human experience. This process of seeking out meaning through my work helps me feel settled there, in my own experience of life (or at least, engaged by it). It is in that “settled” feeling that I am offered a respite, a place where I might land for a second in an otherwise shifting landscape that is experience.
Love and joy as process
Love doesn't just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; remade all the time, made new.
- Ursula Le Guin
What does all this have to do with joy, really? This “settled” in the unsettled moment that I am describing offers a space for joy to be planted. I think seeking out joy is rather similar to seeking out purpose. It’s the clarity of a moment in time, when answers are no longer actively required. It is a sense of stillness in something, or completion. Making joy a process says to me that you are serious about the pursuit of this state of being. For me, the work I do can be a direct route in to this pursuit. The joy I get in creating things feeds back into that river.
I quoted Ursula Le Guin here because I love the idea of love as a process. Again, this runs counter to a narrative that exists which suggests that love is a switch: you are in it, or you are not. You can probably guess by now that this kind of black and white nonsense holds no appeal to the likes of me. It’s never a binary. Joy similarly must be sought out and re-found, again and again. Remade all the time anew. Because it isn’t static, either. When we think about this in a negative sense, we might say ‘the goal posts keep moving’. This is true; as we achieve things we want out of life, the goal posts do keep moving. We aren’t as satisfied by the same things. This is a shame in one sense, but it is also perfectly understandable. We seek out novelty. We seek out newness. We want the next thing, and the next. Curiosity demands it.
And we do want to hold that part inside us, as creative people. We want to keep exploring because otherwise the process stops. It is a tough ask to be both curious and agile, alongside being joyful. We can so easily become embittered, or feel like we’ve fallen short, if nothing ‘new’ and ‘good’ happens.
All the conventional wisdom about joy and contentment say you ought to live in the moment, practice your gratitude, show appreciation for others, find a moment of stillness, and stop buying things to fill emotional or spiritual holes. All of this is great advice. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say that there are bigger and smaller joys that have more or less impact on the question of contentment. If I cook a great dinner? Lovely. If I write a sentence I particularly love? Divine. And I’m okay with that hierarchy. I do have to moderate my expectations. But equally, I have to be honest with myself.
The practice of making things is the practice of looking beyond what you know for certain. This is spiritual to me, it is also joyful. It is also practical, and difficult, and often, very fun and easy. It is bigger than me, but also within me, and whether I do a good job or a bad one, I think the process was worth it. In the end, I think this might be the only question that matters: is the process worth it for you? In other words: Do you find joy in it?
And finally…
I pause. Take stock of this moment in time. I want to say: thank you. Thank you for reading this. Thank you for engaging with me. Thank you to all those who’ve been in the picture while my process unfolds. Those closest to me, my collaborators and loved ones, who have been in this with me. I am grateful. I appreciate you.
And well done to me, for sitting down every day and doing the thing that makes me happy. For not giving in to the fear attached to it. For not letting the expectations drown out the joy in the doing of it. I’m pretty happy with my efforts so far. Nothing is perfect. But I’ve done something. And that will do for now. Whatever comes next, this was good. I liked this. Let’s do more of it.
Until next time,
Be well.
CCx