The origin of hopelessness (part 2)

How creativity can set you free

One of my favorite creations.

Depending on our tendency for creativity, our outlook is more or less inclined to intermittent degradation in accordance with whatever blend of minutiae makes up our sensual intake. In other words, the more creative we are, the less vulnerable we are to the hopelessness imparted by life’s random chaos.

As stated in Part 1,

“Left to the wind for too long, our perspective is prone to deteriorate . . . our general inability to recognize what lies below the surface of our actions renders us susceptible to emotional volatility (especially downturns, if we lack a connection with our creative intuition) . . .

Without others, or some uplifting variation, to level us—especially when we’re younger and inexperienced at contending with our emotions—unfavorable external conditions can quickly consume and undermine our bright and hopeful outlook.”

But why? Why are we more vulnerable to these recessions when we’re less creative? What is it about creativity that’s so uplifting?

What it means to be “hopeless”

To understand the power of creativity, we must understand what it means to be hopeless (so yes, back to etymology!).

“Hope” stems from the Old English word hopa, which means “confidence in the future” or “expectation of something desired.”

Hopelessness, then (I’m realizing now I didn’t need to get all etymological to explain this definition, but whatever), implies a lack of confidence in the future, or a lack of something to look forward to, and manifests when an individual cannot see a desirable path ahead . . . when their outlook is bleak, and they see no tangible way of improving it.

Why people become hopeless

Hopelessness is the consequence of a circular, self-fulfilling process.

On one hand, we’re made as we grow to believe less and less in our dreams, which are, in short, our ultimate conceptions of the future. Of course, dreams are ideals and, therefore, mostly incapable of outright manifestation. But this is only because expectations deceive (in other words, even though you probably won’t hit the mark exactly, it’s because life always has a way of bringing you the unexpected, not because the dream is out of reach). The purpose of this ideal is not to act as a target to hit but as a compass that guides us in our journey toward a better future.

But why does the world not want us to believe in our dreams?

Many would tout that others are envious and, therefore, eager to deter us in our journey. While this may sometimes be the case, it is generally untrue. Most people are, at their core, good-willed and want the best for us . . . And because they want the best for us, they want us to be safe . . .

That’s right—we’re told (almost never outrightly, though) to let go of our dreams because most people believe it’s the best bet (this comes most often in regards to career pursuits) to be “realistic” . . . to operate in accordance with what’s definite because to go beyond is risky and uncertain.

It’s noteworthy that the people telling us this almost always aren’t creative by habit. Their reality is mostly made up of only that which they can physically sense (likely because they’ve given up on their dreams); they struggle to fathom the possibility that something that does not exist can be “realized.” And so, when they say or imply that you ought to be realistic, it’s because they themselves are incapable of envisioning and manifesting. Not to mention, because they aren’t persistent and patient (because they are sensual, all their pleasure must be derived from what’s in their immediate vicinity), they believe anything too lofty is simply out of reach and, therefore, that it’s best everyone else also strives only for those things within reach.

Of course, we all know the road to hell is paved with good intentions. In their loving attempt to ensure your safety, they are wrapping you up and tying you down with the same metaphysical chains that restrain their psychological and existential freedom.

As we get older and progressively relinquish, as advised, these lofty ideals, we become less and less playful. Since we no longer believe in what we most want to do, we no longer reap as much pleasure from creativity (think about how much fun children have with their imagination, which drives creativity). Instead of evolving into its full potential, play ceases. By middle or high school, those activities children used to enjoy with their friends adjourn altogether and morph into a shared, highly stimulating, destructive pattern of indulgence.

While we once might have reveled in painting or fishing or music or sports, aspiring one day to pursue a “career” in these fields, we come to opt for a more mainstream path. Careers—the ultimate aim of schooling—then stop being things we get to do and become things we must do.

Of course, a person’s dream, or the thing they reap fulfillment from, doesn’t have to be what they do to earn a living. Many could, in their time outside of work, give themselves to these pursuits. But most don’t.

It seems we have, in general, forgotten, as my mother wisely told me not too long ago, that the purpose of a job, of employment, is to act as the financial foundation upon which we build the life we want to live. Unfortunately, having relinquished their playful way of being, most don’t actually know how they’d live if they had the choice.

I was surprised to discover, after asking scores of people what activities their “dream day” would be composed of if they had all the resources in the world to make it happen, that most altogether lack a relationship with themselves. Hardly anyone could provide even a partially comprehensive answer, and practically no one was excited by the question!

You might argue it’s the case that these people merely prefer simplicity, and could not answer because they’re as content as they’d ever need to be with just a bowl of cereal, but my intuition begs to differ—I sensed passive indifference.

It’s true: jobs do, in fact, occupy a hefty chunk of time and energy. In addition to life’s many other obligations, there are, after all the time spent working, few hours left in a week for someone to give to their “passion.” The fact of the matter is, however, that the majority of people give what free time¹ they have not to enriching, invigorating, and empowering endeavors but to degenerative pastimes (and certainly not to anything that might help them climb them out of whatever financial or existential rut they’re in).

Which brings me to the other hand of this circular process . . .