Feeling Good: Creativity and Mental Health

I recently said I had the idea to create a sort of series from of the "Feeling Good" title of a previous entry. I still like the idea, but I don't know exactly where I'm going with it. No matter -- I'm sure it'll reveal itself. In the meantime, I'd like to take the series into "part 2" with a discussion of creativity.

The late American author Kurt Vonnegut said, "To practice any art, no matter how well or how badly, is a way to make your soul grow. So go do it."

That's one of those quotes that makes you feel good when you first read it. To revisit it, however, is to likely feel some uncertainty. Okay, it sounds good, but what does it mean?

The way I see it, artistic, or creative, endeavors are those activities that allow us to express ourselves in a vital way.

For example, I use language. I see it as as a vehicle by which I can express myself in ways that serve my needs at the moment. Writing can give me relief from relentless mind-chatter; a conversation can help me open my eyes to a new perspective, and get me "un-stuck" from old, unhelpful beliefs; and I can use my words to share my ideas with others. I can also -- imagine that! -- have fun with it.

(the author, caught in a moment of feverish note-taking)

To me, then, creativity is an activity that can mean many different things, depending on the time and the person. Some people focus on one creative form, while others dabble in several. Regardless, there is no right or wrong: it's deeply personal, and you get to decide for yourself.

In my opinion, there is great value in expressing the content of our hearts, minds, and souls; and whether that content be deeply personal, or silly, shallow, and topical, is quite beside the point. It is the practice that Vonnegut referred to that can encourage peace, self-knowledge, and acceptance. 

*Notice*

For us human beings, mental health is everything. It's omnipresent. Even, and maybe especially, for people who don't think it affects them, I'm telling you -- mental health is everything. Consider this: if you took someone who loved their work, and you took their work away from them, and you left them in an existence devoid of that work, that person would be affected. They would almost certainly be unhappy. They might even feel despondent and lost. Their psychological life, then -- their mental health -- would be affected. And as a result, other parts of their life would be affected, too. So, I repeat: mental health is everything -- it's omnipresent.

I named this blog "Mental Health for Humans" on a lark. I'm not thrilled with the name, but it works for now. Besides, "what's in a name?" I'm not a media strategist, I'm not a slogan-writer, and I'm not prone to snappy witticisms, especially when I'm trying to come up with snappy witticisms. What I knew, prior to launching this blog, was that I had a lot to say about mental health in general, because I had studied it, practiced it as a therapist, and had my own struggles with it.

"Mental health" was, and is, important to me. I feel an urgency about it, in large part because I know that suffering can be assuaged. I know that this earthly existence of ours can feel rather strange and uncertain and mysterious; but I know we can all proceed through it with a greater degree of grounding and happiness. That means a lot to me. I want good things for us. I want us to learn from our problems; I want us to study ourselves, and our universe; and I want us to grow. I want us, collectively and individually, to achieve deeper levels of awareness, and higher levels of consciousness.

The thing is, I'm not really sure that the stuff I write about, and the stuff I want to write about, fits all that neatly into the mental health "bucket." I've never been much of a fan of buckets in the categorical sense, anyway. (Actual, literal buckets are fine, I should note.) I'd rather honor my many and varied interests by drawing connections between them in considering a topic of import; and I'd rather draw strength and passion from them as I pursue a sharper image in my craft (i.e., writing). Besides, there are plenty of people who do a really good job disseminating straight-up, traditional "mental health" content.

I want people to read what I write, and I know there needs to be a thematic orientation for people to "get" my work. So while well-being is extremely important to me, and probably always will be, I may occasionally -- or often, even -- stray out of traditional bounds to discuss it.

For example, I love baseball. I love food. I love architecture, city planning, personal finance, spirituality, literature, theater, art, music, science, culture, etc. It all ties in for me, and each of those things fuels my interest in the other. At a given moment, tattoos and beards might capture my interest and set me off on an exploration of ideas and themes I couldn't have otherwise accessed without their foundational support.

In other words, folks, please take note that I'm going to give myself the space and freedom to explore that which lies beyond the conventional walls of the "mental health" realm. It, mental health, will remain a primary orientation, but even that -- the definition, that is -- is probably broader, for me, than for many.

I hope you enjoy it. If not, that's okay, of course. You need to do what works for you. You need to find content that appeals to you. I'm confident I have something to offer, though, and I invite you in for a look.

Fear and Comfort and Results...Screw It. DO IT!!

The Internet is flooded with content, of course. As I sit here thinking about it, I'm tempted to give in to the defeatist within, saying, "There's nothing you have to offer that will truly add any value to other people's lives." It is definitely tempting to think that way, because when I do, I feel the peaceful serenity of being let off the hook from some arduous task. But wait: alarms go off in my head, and I realize, "Nate -- that's how you know that thinking is total crap."

If you're considering your options as you pursue your craft, and one of those options makes you feel like you do when you're sitting in your sweatpants in front of the T.V. with a bowl of ice cream, then you should not pick that option. It would be very easy to turn off my drive to provide something of value, but it would be the path of slow decay. By giving in to my metaphorical couch potato in this regard, I would be giving in to that opiate bliss of mediocrity and Zombie Brain.

I'll tell you what: I may well indeed be mediocre -- but that's beside the point, and not for me to decide. As Gandalf said, "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us." It's so tempting to rage against that thought, though, isn't it? "NO! I am not mediocre!!" Well, what if you are? Is that so bad? Does that mean you aren't unique, gifted, and with things of value to offer? No. Wait...what does "mediocre," when applied in wholesale terms to a human being, even mean? (Hint: nothing. It's crap.)

I was a theater major in college, so I studied a lot of, well, theater stuff. One of the most damnably frustrating -- and invaluable -- mantras of my professors was some variation of, "It's not about the results; it's about the process. Focus on developing a good process." It used to drive me crazy! I intuitively knew it to be a valuable thing for me to understand, but I couldn't internalize it. I grew up feasting on results, as do most of us in this culture. As for the process...huh? What does that even mean? Why are you talking to me about process when this won't mean anything if we aren't totally successful?

And there it is, folks: the fossilized nugget of crap we are tempted to buy into when we contemplate pursuing our dreams, ideas, goals, or taking steps into the unknown. The reason it's a nugget of crap is twofold: 1) It's an assumption that, if listened to, is 100% guaranteed to keep you from doing what you actually want to do with your time, and with your life on the whole; and 2) It's utterly out of step with reality. After all, folks, everything about the future, and most things about the fleeting present, are utterly unknown. In other words, we are always stepping into the unknown, folks -- always. Every second, every blink of an eye -- whether we want to or not.

I say this, then: we might as well seize control of the one thing any of us actually has control over: our actions. Fan those flames of creativity! Pursue what it is that is fulfilling and value-adding to yourself and others! Abandon your attachment to the outcomes of these endeavors, and just do them! You will be frightened, yes. But you will be fully in touch with your greatest resource and ally: yourself. And you are undoubtedly much more intelligent and resourceful than your opiate comfort zone would have you otherwise believe.

That's why I wrote this post, you guys. I was fretting and hemming and hawing about the "saturation of online content," and some such garbage. I cast off those shackles, and I wrote this post. And you know what? I feel really good about it.

Chances are good I'll have to always wrestle with that kind of self-doubt to some degree, and I accept that. But it's a process, just like recreational fishing: catch and release. All you can do is choose to cast your line; and if you do, and if you work at it and hone your technique through practice, the results, though out of your control, will follow.