What's Your "Hell, Yes!"?
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FULL TRANSCRIPT
My mother turned 80 this month and asked me if I would, before this happened, take her skydiving. This is not the way I imagined celebrating this significant birthday. I thought we'd probably do something more like have a BBQ, get her some flowers and a cake, pretty much anything other than the flirting with death and paralysis that feels so inescapably part of jumping out of a perfectly good plane. But I guess it's not really much of a surprise that I became the person I did, with a mother who would make this kind of request, much less do so without any question in her mind that I would join her. Jump out of a plane with my mother? Oh, hell, yes! And so we did and I have to tell you, seeing my mother so willingly pry herself out of a Cessna at 10,000 feet and hurl herself to the earth was just about the coolest thing I've ever seen. Would I do it again? Well if I'm going with my mom, it's still a "Hell, yes!"
This won't be the longest episode ever, I'm writing it as I head out the door for a week in a kayak among humpbacks and orca off Vancouver Island. It's the first time I've had an adventure in over 16 months. So long ago was it that I took my cameras anywhere that when I couldn't find my batteries they finally turned up in the bag I last used to take my gear to Africa in January 2020. Now, after a year and a half of what can only be called stasis, I feel like I've woken up and in just the last two weeks l've booked this coming week among orca, 8 days with grizzly bears in October, and several weeks of safari in Kenya for January, and in booking all of them I've had this one overwhelming feeling: that after a very long year and a half it feels like my "hell, yesses" are coming back and I'm starting to feel more alive again. What's that got to do with you and your creative life? I'm David duChemin, this is episode 073 of A Beautiful Anarchy, let's talk about it.
Intro/Music
The creative life is one of constant decision-making. Do we do this project or that one, do we seize this new opportunity or wait it out while we complete what we're doing now? And how do we make the new thing in front of us, something we've never made quite like this? The choices can be paralyzing, not only because we often have way too many of them, but because we're usually making them blind. We have no idea how the new book will come out, we haven't written it yet. There are no rules to guide us, no template to follow, and no map to show us where we're going. And something tells me we wouldn't be satisfied for long if there were, and if we couldn't explore and risk, and belt out the final chorus on Frank Sinatra's "My Way" at the top of our lungs —with feeling—when we're in the shower. I can't be the only one doing that that from time to time.
So with all the choices we need to make, it's helpful to have a way of doing so. Some people are super-analytical about things and research them to the smallest detail. Some go with their gut. For me, it usually comes down to this: if something isn't some version of "hell, yes!" for me, then it's a no.
In its simplest form, as an example, this is how I choose one photograph from many when I'm editing my work. I'll come home from a trip with thousands of photographs, most of them no more than the rough sketch images I need to make in order to get to my better work, and when I sit down in front of the computer to make those choices, I'm not looking for all the images that meet a certain standard, all the images that qualify simply because they're sharp or they aren't as bad as some of the others. I'm looking for the "hell, yesses." I'm looking for the ones that stir something in me, make me lean in to take a second look, or make me feel that genuine surprise at how that one single image among hundreds—even thousands— makes me feel. And if it's not a "hell, yes!", it's a no. And because of this there have been times that every image I've made is a no because none of them are a clear "hell, yes" and that's OK, because my goal isn't to make as many mediocre photographs as I can cram onto my hard drives. I'm kind of hoping my life's work is more than just a collection of all the photographs that didn't suck as badly as some of the others.
This very binary way of making choices won't apply to every circumstance, and of course there are times when more nuance or greater compromise is required. There will be exceptions, of course. Sometimes, for example things are a both/and, not an either/or, and the real creativity is in finding scenarios that don't force a choice between two perfectly good options. And sometimes we're called to do hard things that don't feel like an enthusiastic yes but the alternatives are a such a firm "hell, no" that the choice is clear. But overall I've found this way of making decisions has a focusing effect. It forces those of us who see choices through this lens to identify what is of deepest importance to us, it asks us to consider what matters most to us and to pursue that rather than the alternatives.
Focusing on the "hell, yesses" is a prioritizer; it reminds me that I have a short life and I can't do it all; I can't choose every option. It reminds me that I don't find meaning equally in all things and to choose those in which I find, or suspect I might find, the greatest purpose, growth, or reward.
"Is it a hell, yes?" reminds me how few options I can meaningfully say yes to with my whole and unreserved heart, and I think it has helped me, if not to completely avoid mediocrity, then to be conscious of the danger of settling for it.
Asking myself "is this a hell yes?" is neither a trite question merely concerned with pleasure nor is it necessarily selfish or the same as asking whether I want to do something. It's bigger than that. And it doesn't mean it's easy, inexpensive, or free from fear. It means that despite the challenge, cost, and need for courage, one choice is more important to me, more aligned with who I am or want to be, or whose opposite evokes the strongest, most emphatic no.
The other way to look at this is not only "is this particular choice a 'hell, yes' or is it a 'hell, no'?" but rather: "is this the kind of choice that gives me alternatives that are that enthusiastically positive—or emphatically not for me—or am I constantly choosing between options that are both safe, neither of which makes my blood pound through my veins a little faster, or am I just constantly choosing between two different kinds of vanilla?
Maybe this is a personality thing and this particular paradigm won't work for everyone. But I wonder: what matters so much to you that it would be, not a "well, I guess so" or an "I've got nothing better to do", but an "oh, hell, yes" in whatever language you use when you're unrestrained, determined, excited, or feeling most alive?
Are there things in your life that are this important or valuable, ideas or experiences for which you stand, that you're willing to take a pass on the smaller things and the safer plays? And—I think this is important—are you conscious that the firm, unwavering "yes" that you say to these things, is only as strong as the "no" that you say to other things? In a life where we can't have it all, our yesses are only possible to the degree that our nos are emphatic.
There's one more thing being so conscious of this filter has done for me and that's in helping me become less reactive and more intentional. What I've described so far is reactionary. A situation, opportunity, or choice arises and it's up to you to do it or don't. Invest yourself there, pay the opportunity costs involved with not doing other things in that same precious and swiftly disappearing time, or find other options. Your yes or no is a response. But when you've done this a few times, and you begin to see the pattern in those things that light you up on the inside, things that matter to you and are bigger than some of the more trivial choices with which we fill our hours, doesn't it make sense that you would stop waiting for the question to be asked, or the opportunity to arise, and start seeking out—or making intentional room for—the hell yesses in your life?
We spend so much time waiting to be asked to participate in life, waiting to be given some kind of permission by circumstances, like we're all sitting on the sidelines at the high school dance, scared to death but hoping so much to be asked. Maybe that one doesn't work for you, but it does for me; I was always so aware that while someone else might be my great big emphatic yes, I might be, if not their “hell, no” then at least their, “well...no.”
That's a chance we take. But I'm wondering what your hell yes is, and if you're chasing it or just waiting for it to come around and throw itself at your feet. Is it time you wrote that book or finally recorded that album? Is it time you identified the next great big yes in your life and made it happen? Or maybe it's just time you stopped settling, and made some bolder choices that make you feel a little more alive. "Boldness," Goethe reminds us, "has genius, power and magic in it." Perhaps because boldness is so rare.
All of this is so much an act of faith. The creative life will always and inescapably be an act of stepping into the void and hoping desperately that John Burroughs was right when he said, "leap and the net will appear." But if even the smallest steps off that ledge are a risk, and if we're always stumbling into the unknown—even when we're choosing what we believe to be the safer option—then isn't it better that life be a series of more intentional leaps in directions that we choose boldly, and in response to whatever it is inside us that can look at one option over another and so eagerly lean into it that other options stop being a serious consideration?
In 2008 the Collins English Dictionary included, for the first time, the 3-letter word, Meh. Spelled M-E-H, Meh was defined as “an expression of indifference or boredom," as in "Hey, how was your weekend?" to which you might reply, "Meh, it was ok, I guess." You might shrug your shoulders when you say this. Meh is ambivalent, and there's no doubt in my mind that there are lulls in life during which this rather under-achieving grunt/word is just about the most enthusiasm we can muster. Life won't always be a "hell, yes," and it's important to acknowledge that, and be OK with that. But I also wonder if the broad acceptance of meh isn't an unfortunate capitulation to that which is un-extraordinary and mediocre. It feels to me like a great big collective sigh of boredom that we might otherwise be fighting off with bigger dreams and higher hopes for both ourselves and others.
"Hell yes, or no" doesn't work for every choice. But then, neither does over-analyzing things all the time, researching them to death, or going with your gut. It's one tool among others, and like anything, there's a time and a place for it. You're not alone if you've woken up and found that you've been settling, or realizing that you're ambivalent about your default options right now, and hungry for something that makes you feel more alive, something into which you can sink your teeth, and be bold about. Meh might well be an honest response to life right now, and for many it might perfectly express how we're feeling after months of a pandemic that has sometimes felt like it will never end. But it's not very creative, it's definitely not very ambitious, and I'm wondering if perhaps the best way to get beyond "Meh" is to remember again what it felt like to pursue your "oh, hell yesses," and go make something that is not only beautiful, but bigger and bolder than you've done for while. Maybe it's time to stop waiting and stop settling.
Thanks so much for joining me today. Hey, before you turn this off, if you're listening in July of 2021 I want to let you know that I'm taking August off to re-fuel and chase another of my "hell, yesses." I'm going on an expedition up the British Columbia coast to find some bears and spend some time with my much-neglected cameras in the wild. So I'll be taking a break from everything, but you can expect me back in September. Until then, go make something beautiful.
Music in this episode: Acid Jazz (Kevin Macleod) / CC BY-SA 3.0