In this post, I reflect on how we can realistically soothe ourselves in such a tumultuous time.
The news cycle keeps destabilising. We have so much to metabolise daily that it feels relentless just being present. How do we find space for ourselves, and why does it matter that we do?
I saw a video recently by Carrie Scott in which she talks about creative health alongside mental and physical health, the idea that engaging with culture helps us to function, hope, thrive. She mentioned the book Art Cure, which brings scientific evidence to this. It validated something I’d been thinking about: art and culture gives us space to process the world without descending into crisis and inaction. It’s how we recuperate and breathe.
So whatever you’re working on, whatever your creative contribution: keep going. It’s necessary and needed, and I don’t think we can hear that enough. Your creativity matters. I’m your cheerleader.
But it’s the self-work that keeps us going. In the last post, I was gleeful that I’d cracked my own practice code. That high was short-lived. All of them slipped when I hit an existential crisis.
So, we plan for the existential crises.
When I feel futility, structure feels a stretch too far. Tracking feels beside the point. I need something more robust than tracking.
I noticed, though, that I was drinking more water. It happened without me trying. And I’d recently heard something about hydration and fascia that stayed with me, and so I put some intention behind it. Every time I felt thirsty, I thought: I’m going to go for it. A full glass of water. That was the thing I could do. Listening to my body. A positive gesture. A pause. A small act of care for myself.
It’s become a ritual.
I have a list in my journal of things that support me when I forget myself. The problem I discovered: mid-crisis, I’m deeply unconvinced about the efficacy of any of them. So now I write why they work, which I’ve written in the glow of having just done them, a note to my future sceptical, lethargic, overwhelmed self.
Walking in the woods is on the list. Beside it I’ve written: brain detox, gratitude for everything around me, the biggest mood-shifter. Radio 3 is now on the list. I used to feel like an outsider to classical music, like I was missing the key coordinates. Then one day in the car I found myself hearing the body in it: bows on strings, intakes of breath, an artist and their instrument working together. That was my in. Now it’s on all the time.
Also on the list: journaling, dancing, podcasts, audiobooks, massage.
It feels like my life prescription.
What would be on yours? What would you write to your future self, explaining why you need it? What helps you process? What cultivates wonder? Compile the list. Write yourself the reasons. And maybe, when you can’t do any of it, you’ll find yourself called to do something like drinking water. A full glass. And see then, what becomes possible. If you can put the brakes on futility.
Because we need you in your clear-eyed state, creating, hoping, making. We need each other’s creativity.
If you’re feeling creatively stuck, I’ve added an option to my mentoring sessions, a slightly longer session that begins with an intuitive tarot card pull. It works especially well for blocks you can’t quite put words to. We use the images as anchors, returning to them through the session to find routes forward, creative or practical. Send me a message if it appeals.
If you’re thinking about a DYCP application, the fund is opening again, and it’s a great way to take time to deepen or acquire a skill. What can add real value is pairing that learning with mentoring sessions: space to reflect on how your new skills weave into your practice, and what they might open up. I’d love to hear from you if that’s work you’d like to do together.
