NAVIGATING FOG
EPISODE 025: NAVIGATING FOG
Any creative effort, in fact life itself, is untaken in a context of uncertainty. But there are times things feel more uncertain than other, like we’re lacking direction. The Japanese concept of Ikigai provides helpful vectors or points of light, that make it easier to navigate in the fog. Let’s talk about it.
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FULL TRANSCRIPT
A couple of months ago I did an episode about doing your Deep Work and being intentional about the time and focus needed to get that work done and to do it with the kind of depth we all hope will be reflected in our legacy. And then I got a couple emails that reminded me that not everyone knows what this deep work is. In fact some of the emails I got were laced with something like despair, and it occurred to me I had never considered the flip side of this coin: the darker and harder side of this coin. What do you do when you haven’t got direction, when you’re nodding your head to all this stuff but inside your guts are all twisted because everyone else seems to have this direction and purpose and you just feel like everything is a bit foggy and you’re scared to take a step at all because when you don’t know where you’re going, that step might take you further from the legacy you keep hoping you will have, or the deeper work we keep talking about.
At the time I wasn’t sure how to respond to this. I’m still not really sure; how we deal with uncertainty is different for us all. But I have some ideas, most of them a little foggy around the edges themselves because right now, I’m in the soup with you. Right now in my own life I can barely see a hand in front of my face. It feels scary to even admit it. In fact there’s a good chance I’ll never publish this episode, but if I do I’ll leave these bits in because that might be the most honest and helpful thing I can do. We all flounder at some point. We all plateau. We all hit liminal places that aren’t really where we used to be and aren’t really where we’re going. Like some dodgy bus stop from which we’re eager to escape, but with no idea which bus to take, or when it might come. Hell, some of us aren’t sure the bus is ever coming.
Many years ago now I made a transition from professional comedy to humanitarian photography. I’d had a flash of realization on a plane heading to Texas, a realization that I didn’t want to do this, the comedy, any more. Incredibly, only months later I was invited to Haiti and I brought my cameras with me, and within an hour of being there everything was clear. I would leave comedy and become a humanitarian photographer. I didn’t know how, I didn’t know if this was even a thing. I just knew that after years of learning to use my cameras I finally knew what I wanted to do with those tools. It was crystal clear. Or so the story goes. The narrative I’ve been telling myself feels, in hindsight, full of clarity and perfect moments when I’d hit my mark on a map laid out by angels or destiny. But at the time it was foggy and confusing. Only in the rear-view mirror, because it did all work out, does it look like a straight line. But I had no idea where it was leading at the time. Not really. What I did have was the feeling of direction. And even if things were a little foggy, that one point of light is incredibly helpful. At least I could stumble toward it. At least I had direction. When we haven’t got even that, how do we dare take even one step forward? How would we know what forward is?
This is episode 25 of A Beautiful Anarchy, Navigating Fog. Let’s talk about it.
Increasingly, the artists I speak to, and, look, my definition is very broad and could probably at this point just be subbed out for the word human most of the time, those artists are telling me that points of complete directionlessness are more and more common. But is this new? I wonder if, as a generation, things are really different for us in this sense, or if it’s always been this way? I wonder if the big difference is that in the past, in lives that were not under the daily scrutiny of the lens created by social media, and the obligation to perform and be the person our branding promises we are - I wonder, was it easier? I don’t mean previous generations experienced less floundering, just that they floundered without everyone watching. They’d head out into the fog and thrash around a bit, trying new things, seeking direction by doing and risking, and then quietly coming back to centre before heading off in another direction. And frustrating as that can be, it’s probably much easier when no one is looking. I think part of what makes the feeling of directionlessness so hard is the pressure we feel to HAVE that direction. Everyone else looks like they’ve got it dialled in and that just us makes us feel like there’s something wrong with us.
Today, everyone is looking. That’s my most immediate thought when it comes to feeling directionless and while ultimately I think it’s probably good that there are people out there willing to show the floundering and the false starts in their social media lives, it probably takes an unusually confident person to do so and still meaningfully try new directions. I wonder if part of our feeling of directionlessness can come because the safe places in which we used to hammer out that direction, when no one was looking and risks were easier to take and recover from, those places have largely been taken away from us. Or rather, we’ve chosen to give them away, throwing the doors wide open to every eyeball that cares to look in on the part of the process that might better be kept private.
Looking for meaningful direction when none is forthcoming is difficult on a soul-deep level. This is a question about meaning and because so many people no longer believe in the notion of a divine calling to give them that meaning, we’re left to discover it for ourselves. Even those that do believe their calling will come from God usually find God less obvious about things, and wind up with the rest of us, having to discover our direction ourselves, and being forced to make a choice between too many possible options. This is not the stuff of casual conversations, and won’t be solved in a podcast, much less in the remaining few short minutes I’ve got with you now. But I do think that there are some meaningful clues in the fog, small points of light we can walk towards as we look for direction and hints of what our deeper work might be. So where do we find these points of light? By asking 3 questions.
The first of these questions has been so overused it makes my eyes roll, so let me steal my own thunder and tell you where I’m going with this: we’re not looking only for this one answer, but for a common place where the answers to all three questions meet. But forget that for now and answer this questions as though it’s the only one: What do you love? What makes you come alive and breathe more deeply? What’s truly deep-down important and enjoyable to you? Forget the practicalities. Forget what others would think, this isn’t their life. In what things do you find your joy? This is a question of passion, and its your fuel, but it needs direction and that’s what the other questions are for.
The second question is a bigger one: What does the world need? Not “what does the world think it needs?” That’s too big. What do you think the world needs? Is it environmental conservation, is it a cure for cancer, is it gender equality or homes for the homeless? Of course most of us would just nod our heads to all of these, but which one really fires you up? Which one pulls at the tears or makes you angry? For which of these would you volunteer and give your time? Perhaps it’s something other. Perhaps you think the world needs solutions to other problems, God knows there are plenty from which to choose. This is a question of mission, and it can be a real clue to our possible direction.
The next question is more personal and demands a certain humility to answer: what are you good at? Forget the false-modesty. I didn’t ask: what do you do better than anyone anywhere. It’s not a comparison. What are you good at? In fact, even better: what combination of things are you good at? Ultimately you need to get to a point where you know what value you bring to the world, but framed like that most of us would never come up with an answer, paralyzed by the fear that we don’t, that the world is too big and we’re too small. But your world: your neighbourhood, circle of friends, your family. In that world, what do you bring to the table? Are you the problem-solver, the fixer, the coach, the cheerleader, the one who dries the tears, or the the one who makes things beautiful? Figure out what role you play for others, and how you make their lives better, and you’ll have another clue about possible directions or next steps. You can almost never go wrong walking in a direction where you bring value and make your world, however small, a better place.
What do you love, what does the world need, and what are you good at? The intersection of these three things–and some would add a fourth: what can you get paid for?– in this intersection is what the Japanese call your Ikigai. Your reason for getting out of bed in the morning and getting to work. For me this idea of Ikigai is a re-calibration tool, a helpful paradigm that keeps me moving in the right direction.
What it does not do is clear the fog entirely. The fog is not a function of my own thinking, it’s a function of life. Life is foggy and uncertain. It’s been helpful to me to remember that not having the remotest idea what is coming next for me, or not being able to see the future, is not the same as having no direction. You can walk for miles in the fog, and while you might not see what’s coming, you can know you’re walking towards something specific. At the top of this episode I said I was in the fog with you. I am. But that is not the same as being stalled and directionless. I haven’t got the foggiest idea what’s coming next, not a clue. But I know I’m on the right path. I’m OK with the mystery, as long as I know I’m still on the road. I used a bus-station metaphor at the beginning, because some of us feel like we’re waiting there. But it’s not a great metaphor because there is no bus. You’re it. It’s one step in front of the other in this life. And none of us, even the most confident, actually knows what’s coming next. None of us knows if the deep work with which we’ve occupied ourselves is going to bear fruit or succeed. The novel might flop this time. The album might not come together the way we expected. The product you’re working on now that’s consuming all your time and focus, might in the end just be a faltering step towards something bigger. They are all just momentary landmarks on a journey that’ll be really clear in hindsight, but rarely is as we move forward into the unknown.
So for those of you feeling like you’re navigating in the fog, you’re not alone. Creative people live and work in a context of uncertainty. We will always be in the fog, and though some days will seem clearer than others, it’s always going to be a bit of a gamble. But if you’re navigating by the vectors provided by this idea of Ikigai, the intersection of what you love, what you are good at, and what people need, you’ll be walking in the direction of joy and value and contribution, and almost any step you take in that direction will lead somewhere interesting. You’ll find work to go all-in on, and projects that quicken your heart and challenge your thinking. And if you’ve got options and are feeling paralyzed–just pick one. As long as you’re going in the right direction it probably doesn’t matter. It’s more important that you keep moving, that you not spin your wheels. A tentative step in the right direction, even if it takes you the scenic route is better than none at all. Moving forward is everything, that’s where we find the groove. Whatever you do, don’t wait for the fog to clear, don’t wait for the bus to come. There is no bus. The fog almost never clears. The creative life is one of making courageous steps into the unknown, and as long as you’re following your curiosity, your talent, and your values, you’ll find your way. Embrace the mystery. That’s where we experience the joy of discovery and find things bigger than we ever imagined. Thanks so much for being part of this with me. I’m humbled by the letters and reviews I’ve been getting. If these short conversations are helpful to you I’d love to hear from you and you can do that by dropping me a note at talkback@beautifulanarchy.com. I release new episodes of A Beautiful Anarchy 3 out of 4 weeks, but if you still want your fix on those 4th weeks, I’d love to send you the latest issue of On The Make, which is my monthly chance to encourage you in your everyday creativity by email. Just go to a BeautifulAnarchy.com, scroll to the bottom of the page, and tell me where to send it. I’ll also send you a copy of my eBook, Escape Your Creative Rut, 5 Ways to Get Your Groove Back.
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Music in this episode: Acid Jazz (Kevin Macleod) / CC BY-SA 3.0