Yesterday after work I has a random burst of spontaneous creative energy. It emerged all of a sudden out of nowhere, fully formed. It was pure and childlike. While propped up by pillows listening to a podcast, I suddenly got the urge to draw

It should be noted that I am not an artist. I am not someone who typically sketches. I’ve never learned anatomy or perspective or whatever else people learn when they are learning how to draw. I wasn’t coming at this from a practiced, adult place. Instead, I did what comes naturally to so many of us as children. I picked up a piece of paper and a pencil and just started.

Since I was watching a podcast at the time, I attempted to draw the host’s face. It didn’t turn out too well (maybe those fundamentals are worth brushing up on?) but I enjoyed the act of making something. Being able to control the marks and colors on the page felt exhilarating. Even though it was tiny, here was one domain where I had total control. The possibilities on the page in front of me were limitless. I was in control of where I wanted to go.

Even though my technical capacities are limited, in the moment it didn’t matter. I was somehow able to enter a flow state where just creating, even badly, felt like reward enough. In the moment I thought, “Why am I not doing this all of the time? This is great! And it sure beats mindlessly scrolling the Internet. I bet I could become great at this. I will start doing this every day.”

Towards the end of my sketch session, I became more experimental. I added bold colors. Then, with growing confidence, I added in patterns and words and other odd flourishes. When it was done, I gazed at my work on the page. While it wasn’t a masterpiece, in the moment I felt proud, accomplished and fulfilled.

I went to sleep earlier than usual. I was excited for the days ahead when I could indulge more in my newfound creative interest. But I woke up with a stomach ache and mounting pile of administrative tasks I needed to complete at work. When I finally hit a lull in the afternoon, I retrieved the book I had drawn in and flipped to the page I had worked on.

I was massively underwhelmed. This was what I had been excited about the day prior? Amateurish didn’t begin to cover it. And the more eccentric touches felt downright obnoxious in the cold light of day. I wanted to shake this feeling. Even bad art made by hand is still better than the best art AI can make, I tried reasoning with myself. There was worth in the process, regardless of the outcome. You have to crack a few eggs before you can make an omelet. I tried force feeding myself these and other self-help cliches to little success.

While logically I knew they were all correct, internally I felt demoralized. Today, I dragged my feet on creating anything. I sunk into a spiral of self-pity and sadness that I stayed in for a while. But now, I sit here writing. I do think one of the most worthwhile things we can do is to create things honestly, earnestly, and with our own hands. I believe this to be true even when I am feeling low. While I may not have the impetus to draw today, I can still put words to my experience. This, in and of itself is a form of creative engagement. Even if it is not the engagement I wanted, it is the one that is accessible to me now. And so I am engaging with it. I suggest you do the same. Stop reading my words on a screen and bring something into this world tonight that wouldn’t have existed without you. Whether that’s words, scribbles, a masterpiece, or a smile on a stranger’s face – get out there and make something happen!