In June this year, I went for a walk with an entrepreneur. Forty-five minutes in, she told me her great lockdown revelation was discovering the concept of the ‘inner child’. Once lockdown ended, and she told friend after friend, she quickly discovered she - a woman who is across every new trend - was possibly the last person on earth to discover this term. Your ‘inner child’ is, as the name suggests, a version of your childhood self that has become part of your consciousness. Your ‘inner child’ impacts how you interact with the world, and is often the part of your psyche that still retains innocence, creativity, and wonder. Psychologists argue we should all stay connected to this part of ourselves, which is funny when you really think about. We spend the first two decades of our life trying to grow up, and the rest of it trying to claw back the parts of ourselves we stamped out.
In November, The Cut’s advice columnist, Heather Havrilesky, was asked how to live like an artist without actually becoming one. To me, the questioner was really asking how we can claw back that neglected part of ourselves; our innocence, our creativity, our wonder. While this era may allow each one of us to express ourselves and perform our curated identities online, it’s still one of the toughest times for our creativity to make us any money. Which is, perhaps, why so many of us don’t try. So, if you can’t make a living as a painter, or a writer, or a photographer, how can you still live like one? Or, if you have no desire to paint, or write, or even take photos, how can you still live like the people who do? Those questions underpinned The Cut article and of course Havrilesky had an answer. It would be stupid if she didn’t. Her response included seven simple rules: 1. Believe in what you are and what you have. 2. Cultivate curiosity about the truth, no matter how ugly it is. 3. Stop doing battle with yourself and welcome whatever comes up. 4. Become what you fear. 5. Welcome uninvited guests into your heart and mind. 6. Study other artists. 7. Pursue joy at all costs.
While she expanded on these rules, Havrilesky also uncovered the simplicity of the human condition and it was this part of the article that resonated most. “Humans want love and connection, but things get in our way. We want to feel special and we don’t feel special enough. We want to feel important and visible and we live in a world that tricks us into thinking we’re important and visible while it picks our pockets day after day. And eventually, we learn to pick each other’s pockets, thereby assuming the shape and texture of the culture that surrounds us,” she wrote. “Living like an artist means taking this scalding hot cup of coffee that is the human condition and enhancing it with your own unique version of pumpkin spice.” Not a version of pumpkin spice that seems right or good or loved by everyone else - because it’s impossible to please everyone and depressing to live this way - but a version of pumpkin spice that feels true to you. “That’s the central commandment of living like an artist,” Havrilesky said. “Find your own weird path to joy. F**k interesting and special. F**k making something perfect that other people deem impressive or admirable. Just find your version of pumpkin motherf***ing spice.”
As we reach December, it is likely you’re beginning to think about the New Year’s resolutions you hope to uphold next year. We live in a culture that promotes constant striving, so we’re encouraged to ‘set goals’ and ‘make gains’, but perhaps there’s merit in looking around instead of looking forward. Perhaps there’s merit in working out how you want to live, instead of just what you want to achieve. Perhaps this year has taught us that more than any other. Havrilesky explained that artists’ ideas are basic because the human condition is basic. Although the human condition forces us to live in a constant paradox, the paradox remains the same; leaving us grappling with the same answers. The answer that is echoed often seems to be living in a way that feels true to you. I don’t think this means you have to quit your day job and become an artist. I don’t even think you have to write or paint or sing. I think, in short, it means you should move through the world in a way that feels right to you; in a way that brings you joy, with the things that bring you joy. Be that a good book on the weekend, or music blaring through the house at night, or by greeting each encounter with openness and curiosity. In fact, it may not be about the direction at all, but the rhythm of your stride.
Some related (and unrelated) recommendations:
Obviously, this advice column on how to live like an artist.
This New Yorker article explores how we pay for creativity in the digital age, and why it's mostly not the creators getting rich.
Good Weekend's annual 'Who Mattered' issue features the local 'ordinary' heroes doing extraordinary things this year. Worth a read.
This New York Times feature on how to deal with life in long-term isolation is excellent - and for anyone who is currently dealing with it.
I loved The New Yorker's best music of 2020 wrap-up.
I also loved this stunning article on an activist's 10 rules for living.
This Bill Gates and Rashida Jones podcast episode where they chat with Sapiens' author Yuval Noah Harari about disinformation and why we're so willing to believe lies.
Finally, for anyone preparing to travel in the next few weeks, this T Magazine editor's letter is a nourishing read.
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