Tag: sadness

047b – sadness is freeing

There is a question that various artists and creators have addressed over the decades: Is sadness, pain necessary to create art? [1]

Everyone has their own answers, and I’m not going to attempt to share a version of my answer to this today. But I do want to share another observation, somewhat related. I do find that there is a certain freedom in sadness that I don’t feel in happiness. With happiness, I find myself getting attached, wanting to hold on to it longer, wanting to preserve, and overall just very afraid to mess something up. With sadness, or other “negative” emotions, on the other hand, I feel extremely free. There is no pressure to be a certain way, “you’re already sad”, things can’t really get worse, and I feel like that opens up ideas, the page, the canvas, everything. 

So while pain may not be “necessary” to create art, I do think it lends better to most art than positive emotions do. But of course, this may differ for people. 

One part of this could be my particular relation with positive emotions. Why is it that positive emotions demand more attention and preservation from me? I guess it’s insecurity at some level. Maybe I’m more confident in giving up control when it comes to negative emotions (because I learnt that I needed to, and there wasn’t another way), and in that way I’ve actually learnt to process them even better than positive emotions. I need to let positive emotions also take their own course. I need to accept that those, too, cannot last. 

The other part though is the “sharing” of art, and not just its creation. Firstly, I do believe that more sharing leads to more creation, and that is the primary reason why sharing is important. But even with sharing, it’s easier to share stuff related to negative emotions (for me), because even though happiness gets more rewarded on social media, I’m almost worried about conveying that I’m happy and sorted. Because if I convey that once, I worry that people are not going to be around when I’m sad again. But maybe that’s related to same thought around permanence. Maybe because I want happiness to be somewhat permanent, I think that other people look at it the same way as well. Maybe I feel the world has an idea of permanence around happiness as well. 

Okay, to summarise: I feel more freedom around negative emotions as compared to positive emotions. I think negative emotions are not necessary but do lend better to the creation as well as sharing of art. I worry that the world also has the same ideas as me when it comes to relating happiness or positive emotions with a certain amount of permanence. 

[1] Ocean Vuong talks about this in “On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous” 

020a – directives for the blues

Let yourself grieve. Take the time out to look at withering plants and cloudy days. To read worn-out books and eat left-overs. Allow yourself to taste your tears and feel your sobs. It doesn’t make you small, it doesn’t make you big. It makes you you and that’s all there is.

You don’t have to ignore that heavy feeling in your stomach, or your chest. You don’t have to suppress the shivers and trembles that bequeath your flesh. You don’t have to wipe your clammy hands, you don’t have to quieten your sniffles. You don’t have to be mature or strong-headed. You don’t owe that to anyone. You can listen to the child in you, you can reach out to the child in you. You can tell them everything they never had the pleasure of hearing. Recount your failures, recount your mistakes, recount your losses, there’s no harm in it.
You don’t have to respond to or engage with all the “negative” thoughts but you don’t have to shun them out either. When you call them negative you judge a part of you that you have no control over. You don’t have to drive them away for no reason at all. After all, they’re (of) human too. 

Let yourself cradle the pieces of your broken heart. Honor the ones that won’t go back in anymore. Maybe bury them in the sand or wash them off in the sea, whatever floats your boat. Bid them farewell, they did good. Tell them how the rest of your heart will be with them sooner or later. But for now it needs to live on.
It needs to live on and it can’t carry around the dangling, broken pieces anymore. And for you to release them, you need to hold them. And for you to hold them, you need to look at them, acknowledge them. And for you to acknowledge them, you need to face your grief.

So let yourself face your grief. Let yourself look at happiness and feel wistful. There’s no hurry, you’ll find it when you’re supposed to. Let yourself be surrounded by love and friendship and allow it to not lift your spirits, if it doesn’t. Take the time out to play minor chords and smoke that cigarette. Take the time out to take tests you might fail at. Take the time out to meet people who’re going to disappoint you. Let yourself taste the cardboard of expensive pizza. The bitterness of expensive coffee. Let yourself feel the elusivity of attractive people. Of attractive opportunities. Let yourself see the dependency of love. The expectations of friendships. The attachment of comfort.

Allow the rain to be a damper on your plans, allow the sun to leave sooner than it was supposed to. Allow yourself to cry over all of it anyway.  

Take the time out to grieve, so you don’t make the mistake of passing it on.