There is an in-progress lesson the Lord is teaching me regarding art and anxiety. Have you ever felt a strange resistance toward your passions? Have you ever put off a personal project, doubted your abilities, or wondered if there were deeper levels of fulfillment for you? Sweet, me too. Let's talk about that.
I've been wondering what makes myself and others feel anxious, apathetic, or depressed about our creative passions. Why do I feel such resistance to sit down and sketch or go to my studio to paint? Shouldn't this anxiety negatively reinforce me to make art to feel better? What driver is so powerful that my brain would rather remain apathetic than creating?
The answer is simple and unsurprising: fear. We have been so conditioned by worldly metrics of success to think the point of creating is the outcome, end product, or impact it will have. The fear of not measuring up can become so intense that we'd rather sit in apathy and anxiety if it means we don't have to engage that fear. I'm learning there is another way.
What if, instead of creating despite fear, we could create without it, from a place of real peace and joy? And if that place exists, how do we enter into it?
The solution (which I'm still very much working out), is to abandon our expectations over outcomes, that the end-product fade from our mind—if not entirely, then certainly most of the time. Having goals can be helpful of course, but if they're rooted in worldly standards of success, then we're left chasing a bar always just out of reach.
A better goal has nothing to do with online reception or growing our careers. Nothing to do with followers, likes, or revenue streams. A better goal is to simply create from a place of peace, joy, and sustainability. Motivation by fear alone is inherently unsustainable as it requires payment in the form of peace. I don't want to create because there will be consequences if I'm not. That's pressure, not passion.
I'm practicing how to unplug from prioritizing outcomes. Because when it comes to these ventures, failure isn't a factor. Most often, failure exists merely as worrisome thoughts of the future, rather than observations of a current reality. It only serves to remove us from the present, which is where creation takes place.
The more real failure is embracing perspectives that keep me from creating—and enjoying it too! So long as pencil is to paper, paint to canvas, or whatever it may be for you, victory is present and active.
I don't have all this figured out, but I hope this is an encouragement. There is real hope for a better way. Romans 7:15–8:7