The myth of creativity and pain
Things are a little rocky right now. Work prospects are great, and the bay area is treating me well with some beautiful weather. But ten days ago I was blindsided by some unexpected personal issues. After three years of what I thought was a solid, special relationship, I’m single once again, by a unilateral decision not my own.
There’s not much to do about it right now, just cope, and look for strategies for moving forward. I didn’t intend this blog to be a repository of emotional baggage. I’d rather keep it outward facing and optimistic. But at the moment it’s difficult to find that voice.
I realized today that I’ve been subscribed to a false belief that great creativity often comes out of intense, painful life experience. With this thick sadness clouding my vision, creativity is on hold, and I’m just concentrating on keeping one foot in front of the other, and navigating all the other parts of life that suddenly seem a lot harder. My most creative moments have happened in my happiest periods, times of intense confidence and feelings of endless possibility. Sadness doesn’t make me create. It numbs.
So for the few people who actually read this thing, thanks for sticking by me, and apologies for the naval gazing introspective stuff here, but my past few weeks have warranted it. This is my material now. This is my life. So I’m going to learn from it, the same way I learned from the lab. These changes are forcing me to go back to basics, making lists of what I need or want to achieve, and trying to make some plans about how to get there. These aren’t ambitious by most standards, but they are a starting point. I’m training at altitude here, where it is harder to breathe and think straight. If I can nail this, if I can keep moving and even grow now, when I come back down to sea level I’m going to be in good shape. That’s when I’ll really make things happen.

