My inner critic has a name. Francois.
Several years ago I traveled to Montserrat, Spain for a creativity workshop with the legendary Julia Cameron, author of The Artist’s Way.
The morning view from Montserrat Abbey
I found her playful approach to the inner critic so refreshing. She told us to give the voice a personality: age, name, occupation, nationality, gesture, and a catchphrase or two.
Francois is a chain-smoking middle-aged French nihilist. A chronically unimpressed professional art critic. His refrain, with a dismissive wave of his cigarette-wielding hand, is, “What’s the point.”
Something like I imagine Francois to look like (Charles Boyer, actor)
The truth is there are no shortage of reasons to despair if we drop our mental defences and actually pay attention to the state of the world. Hunger. War. Natural disasters. School shootings. Children abused. Books banned. The destruction of the Amazon.
There are days when Francois (and the headlines (and London weather)) win, and I feel stuck in a grey haze of “what’s the point?” Intrinsic motivation evaporates and my creativity can feel completely inaccessible.
And yet, it’s only a matter of time before a beacon of sunshine breaks through the clouds and a spark of hope is illuminated. And creativity usually deserves the credit for these life-affirming moments.
For example, yesterday my whole energy shifted when I stumbled upon this version of the song, 'You are the New Day'. I think it’s pretty hard listen to the song and not feel refreshed and hopeful.
I was even more inspired when I read John David’s story behind the song:
“The inspiration for New Day was quite simple; I had just had a major blow in my personal life, and was sitting alone late at night on the settee feeling very low, and watching an ominous story on the news about the very real possibility of nuclear war.
“I started singing to the (hopefully) soon-to arrive New Day like it was an entity, that would rescue me from the depths. If the sun came up and the birds started singing as usual then I could believe that it really was the new day in which life would go on, and in which hope would survive.
“The tune and the words popped into my head at the same time, and it was all written in about 10 minutes, which is why (to me at least) it’s not perfect. But I didn’t feel I had the right to change anything.”
I find it impressive how he managed to make this beautiful song in the midst of a dark time. But even more inspiring for me, the song wasn't an expression of his dark feelings. It was a response to them.
So next time I'm feeling pinned down under the weight of despair, rather than simply tap out, perhaps I can practice some creative jiujitsu, shift my position and respond creatively. Or rather, let creativity respond through me. It's worth a try.
I’m curious, what are your creative beacons of hope? What poems or images or songs or stories or movies do you turn to to help restore your hope in humanity in the face of fatalism?