stretching black cat

I was already thinking about the struggle of activism and making, that is, the time sucking angst of the former and the willingness to distract ourselves from the latter. I read an article this morning (on Twitter, of which I’ve got an alarm on my phone to remind me to get off it, so, yes, there are probably myriad posts to come fretting over my surprisingly intense social media addiction) about Pennsylvania Trump supporters who were touting his goals and promises as reasons to vote for him last year. Currently, however, it isn’t the lack of accomplishment or abandoned promises that has lost their support. To the contrary, his hardcore fans (and voters) don’t care about those things. They believe he represents them and their values, and so it doesn’t matter what has changed or been altered in policy or goal.

Regardless of my personal depression over such revelations, the connection between that and my attempt to overcome my own barriers to creation is that passion is an important tool in making things for the world. It drives us toward something. I’m not a fan of positive thinking. Barbara Ehrenreich’s Bright-Sided comes to mind. It’s okay, no, it’s important to feel your feelings, to own them, no matter what they are.

But in the case of creation, a fire for getting something made because we believe in what we are for might trump (hah?) the anger over what we’re against. Distilled: a fervent stand for something beats a stance against something because there’s a reason out there, and meaning to be found in heading for it. We’re stirred by what we don’t like, there’s no doubt. But without things to like, without things to be for, it’s shouting into the void, empty and impotent.