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Living on autopilot can be a ruthless existence, but only if one has the ability to lift their head above the waves and notice it. Waking up in the morning and brushing their teeth, drinking the first cup of coffee before placing their foot on the gas and continuing about their day; autopilot.
These moments are washed in the mundane habits of the everyday – habits that can hold meaning as building blocks to a person's routine – but still lack the depth that inspires creativity. The blur of motion as the days pass by, the quiet change of seasons or the loud burst of emotions and grief seem to lure everyone into complacency. It begs for the body to slide into its next habit, mindless and thoughtless.
Season after season, I find myself resting back into this sense of habit. Resting, I say? Yes, resting. Sometimes, autopilot is a peace that requires nothing but simple cues of the sun and moon, light and dark, not emotion and questions. Yet it becomes a pit. One that is seldom truly climbed out of. The one thing that living as a creative has taught me is quite simple: I know absolutely nothing. Every time I look at something I dream of doing, the steps to reach that destination seem farther and farther away the more my mind wanders down its road.
“How” and “Who” are usually the first words that pop into my head. Boundless ideas are trapped inside the limits of life and logic... and that, THAT, is the death of creativity, isn’t it? Limits. Shouldn’t there be none? Yet we continue to accept them. Inherit them. Assume them as if they are the binding truth of our reality… We allow the unknown to harden into the known, into truth, and we agree to it as easily as we choose the sweater we will don in the morning.
Creativity without courage is meaningless. For without the courage to place your foot forward, the vision fades, the dream collapses, and the tide recedes. Is courage not the reason that art hangs in the Louvre, continuing to exemplify meaning and fortitude? And without uncertainty, or even the risk of failure, creative works die on the heels of comfort and safety. The familiar sense of reality regains control, whispering its words of complacency. Life slips back into autopilot unless the fight for autonomy is fought for...
