A Simple Recipe for Resilience

I’ve been experiencing writer’s block for the past two weeks—that dreaded state of creative paralysis in which the writer, desperate for the high that generativity provides, finds herself cut off from the flow.

The sluice gate shuts. The field runs dry. The river flows past you, eager to meet the sea.

Years ago, when this would happen, my angst was immense, albeit self-inflicted. Back then, I understood creativity as something that came from me, instead of as something that comes through me, so that any failure to produce or achieve seemed to be on account of my personal shortcomings. This is the risk we run when we see ourselves as autonomous actors in the game of life, instead of as the blessed recipients of its numinous intelligence. This is the risk we run when we believe we’re in control.

I’ve written about this flawed approach to life and creativity before, which I called the “heroic approach,” one in which we see our creations and futures as things to be consciously and painstakin…