We have a tendency to never be satisfied. This tendency has a potent reasoning for existence. If we were satisfied then we would be eternally remaining stagnant. We wouldnít require the need to keep moving forward, to aspire for greater things and constantly be on the search for something more. If it isnít travel then itís work and if it isnít work then itĎs love. Love orientating around friendship, family, self-appreciation and romance. Thereís always that little something more. Itís a thought that eats away at your optimism whispering in your ear ďif only you had thisÖthen youíll be happy.Ē
Happiness as a Potential Threat to Creativity
Being ridiculously happy poses a severe threat to my creativity. I don't write for weeks. My drawing folio is due in a few days and I havenít picked up a sketchbook since at least two full moons ago. I used to be filled to the brim with inner turmoil. This made me burst with articles and drawings erupting out of the seams of my skin. Comparing myself now to early adulthood is tricky. When your tweenydom version craves belonging and a stronger sense of identity through self-expression, what happens when you finally have these feelings realised? When Iím happy I am completely lackluster.
As a Teenager
Being fifteen was like being constantly plugged into a power adaptor of inspiration. Everything that was dark was attractive where intrigue was only found within the ominous. Everything that had happened in the past seemed embedded in my psyche. Times that I hadnít existed in became wondrous in which a deep-seated nostalgia formed notions of better places. Self-exploration was found only in the darkest of places. Art History was an easy and unpretentious subject because empathising with angst-ridden pieces was inherently natural.
Things have changed since sixteen. Iím so joyful that it has formed a chain reaction drying my imagination up like a sultana. Itís utterly depressing that a sultana was the best analogy I could come up with in that instance. If I wasnít so damn happy then that would bother me. I would be completely disheartened by the fact the only thing I could think of comparing my creative drought to was a sultana. And now Iím trying to write an engaging article and all Iím talking about is sultanas. I need to become unhappy for the sake of this article.
Iím happy but Iím not satisfied. My creativity has gone. Some void is undoubtedly trying to be filled because all that talk about sultanas made me eat half a kilo. That isnít supposed to be an attempt of being impressive but honestly just a conveyance of how dire situation this situation is.
Doing what we love and surrounding ourselves in positivity is obviously a key component to sustaining happiness. What we must be careful with however, is making sure this happiness stems from a balanced life that isn't too dependant from one sole source. Being with a special person may make a person sincerely happy yet true happiness rests on the contentment with the one and only 'Self Avenue.'