The Sea of Galilee: Icon, Role Model, Superstar

LOCATION: EDINBURGH, UK 

Musings on the peculiar lifestyle of a student and the necessity of creation.

We are doing too much consuming. And not enough creating.

For months, I didn’t even realize. A deluge of information such as I’d never experienced, coupled with a blizzard of activity, filled my time so effectively that I didn’t notice that all I was doing was taking, taking, taking, and not making anything. No photography, no music, negligible writing, and certainly no fine arts. Weeks packed full of lectures, readings, debates, dinner parties, lectures, the symphony, discussion groups, cocktail bars, more lectures, the opera, and piles more reading pulled me into this whirlwind of work and glamour and business – and consumption.

But the river must flow through the sea; the sea must not hold the water without allowing it to continue on its path. And as pleasurable and momentarily satisfying such a lifestyle is, the satisfaction it provides is surface and unsustainable.

Three months after I moved to Edinburgh, a friend announced her next project: to learn to crochet. We’d just exited the lecture theatre, and she was plotting to go buy a hook. Don’t be silly, I said, I’ve got loads at home. And so I did – I’d packed them in the naïve hope that I would have time to sit and craft. I’ll teach you.

In an afternoon, I had been reminded of my love for needlecraft, yes, but also of something more substantial – my absolute need to create. To pour my energy into a work of some kind and be able to hold it up as a product of my efforts. A few short hours with my crazy, adorable, green-haired friend reignited a fiery desire in me to make stuff. And I did – hats, scarves, and headbands as Christmas gifts; a burgundy aviatrix-style cloche for myself; a handful of tiny, colourful flowers, whose purpose will, I’m sure, be illuminated at some future time.

This realisation came up behind me with elephantine cymbals and left me impas- sioned, but scattered. Now comes the time  to refocus this energy into productive out- put. I intend to funnel it into creative pro- jects of many ilks: writing, first and fore- most, especially essays (not just academic) and poetry; photography and creative direction; music; and illustration – among other pursuits. The consumption is valuable  – indeed, absolutely necessary – but must  be transformed, transmuted, into some- thing fresh.

Crucially, one needn’t be good at anything, really, to escape the clutches of the input-sans-output cycle. The fundamental requirements are critical thought and a perspective and voice that are true to their owner. The actual act of creation can be a simple one [a phone photo of intriguing shadows, a handwritten postcard to a friend], an ephemeral one [a quick sketch of a flower on a diner napkin, abandoned once the bill is paid], or even an objectively terrible one [my worst fear is someone finding my sketchbook – and looking through it]. One mustn’t allow not-being-Keats to prevent one from ever trying one’s hand at poetry.

And even though I have extolled the pleasures of creating something tangible, you might be surprised how powerful it is to create something and then let go of it. Creation without responsibility – it’s a gateway drug. Not [necessarily] to consuming less, but to consuming mindfully, with purpose, and with the intent to make something out of it, whether that be a piece of art, a movement, or even, quite simply, an idea.