Permission, Fear, & Creativity

Who gives permission for fearless creativity?

We live in a society that seemingly embraces the dictum -

It is easier to ask forgiveness than to ask permission.

We live in a society in which men mock their friends as “whipped” if they so much as consult their life-partner on a decision.

At every step, we are exhorted to “Just Do It!” — “Go for it!”. In every moment, we all know that failure to take the risk, introduces the risk of being labelled a coward, a failure, a “less-than”.

How often has a “boss” told you to “take initiative”; told you to “stop waiting for permission”? How often did that same boss later use your initiative as plausible denial to cover his/her own ass, and throw you under the bus?

When we were children, the unpredictability of permission vs initiative extended even to our parents, teachers, and coaches. Fail to ask permission, and you were in trouble. Fail to take initiative, and they were “disappointed in you”. Which as we all know, is worse … or at least feels it.

Our society exists within a murky reality that requires initiative, but demands permission.

We all live within this tension. Some recognise it consciously — others, less so. Some tend to err on the side of seeking permission, while others rebel. Those that somehow find the tenuous balance, are often hailed as successful — innovators, entrepreneurs, and even geniuses.

But few of us find and maintain the balance, between permission and initiative, that successfully.

Sometimes, we get caught up in the need to ask permission.

Often, even as adults, we feel the need to get “permission” from family, friends, colleagues, or bosses. Sometimes, that is what those people expect, or even require. But, far more often, we ask permission in the hope that it will be denied and we don’t need to take the risk. Alternately, if permission is given, and we fail, we can tell ourselves that it wasn’t our fault.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately — for very personal reasons. Recently, I find myself with an almost terminal reluctance to “pull the trigger” on just about anything. If I were a life-long sci-fi reader, I’d say I was caught in a “stasis field”. Oh wait … I am … and I am.

Now, you need to realise. This is not normal behaviour for me. During my 56+ years, I’ve more often been accused of “charging in where angels fear to tread” —sometimes with reason. While I’m not unthinkingly reckless in my behaviour, I’ve always had an insatiable hunger to try the next thing, and a willingness to take calculated, considered risks. This has always been the basis of my creativity — in all areas of life.

This adventurous approach to life means that I’ve literally been a soldier, a sailor (and ironically, a conscientious objector), a leather-worker, a restaurant manager, a TV-cameraman, a bible-college student, a teacher (adults & kids — IT, English, entrepreneurship, sales/marketing), a photographer, graphic designer, writer/editor, and done most things within IT, including programming, support, network admin, training, retail, and consulting.

That little list includes some of my successful “paying” occupations. I’ve done much more “on the side”, for fun.

So, why am I suddenly gun-shy? Why, over the past 3-years, have I become increasingly reluctant — even afraid — to start new things?

It’s become so bad that I battle to starting reading a new book — and I’ve been a voracious reader since 3-years of age. It’s become so bad that a full-length movie feels like too much of a commitment.

What has made me into such a wuss, that committing 90-minutes of my life to a movie just seems too risky?

The short answer, is that I’m refusing myself permission to do things.

Yeh, I know. That sounds really weird, and not just a little psycho, right? However, I can’t find any other explanation that fits the bill nearly as well. There’s no-one else who can or would deny permission for my creativity, new business ventures, or reading a book.

The question therefore, becomes, “Why?”
“Why am I denying myself permission to be creative?”
“Why am I denying myself permission to be myself?”

The only sensible answer I’ve been able to come up with is — FEAR!

In essence, I’ve become my own over-protective, helicopter parent. The question, once again is, “Why?”.

I won’t go into much detail, but over the past four years, my life has been thrown almost completely off track. I’ve been betrayed (they would obviously not use that word) by family that I trusted, and was trying to help. That has left me in a situation where I’m unable to find paying work. All of my attempts to get a business started, have failed for one reason or another. On top of that, I have to depend on those same family members for food & accommodation. Oh yes, I must relate to them daily, since we live on their property, and I cook their food, help out around the place, etc.

Yes — I’ve had to dig myself out from under unimaginably huge piles of crap. Oops! Did I put that in the past tense?

Socially, emotionally, financially, psychologically, relationally — everything has felt like a constant battle to survive. Yes, I do recognise that I’m still better off than many, and no, this is not an invitation to a pity party — it’s just a report on my self-analysis. I also realise that there are many who may have coped far better than I have.

That said, I am who I am, where I am, experiencing my current reality, and trying to make sense of it. Most of the past 3-years or so, have involved redefining myself, and how I need to understand and use my creativity to move forward.

So … fear.

Yeh, none of us like to talk about our fears. We’d rather deny them, dance around them, or talk about what we’re doing to to get past them. Fears are disruptive. Acknowledging our fears — especially when we feel overcome by them — makes us feel weak, cowardly, helpless, hopeless … not enough.

So … my fears.

The past 4-years seem to have made me incredibly fearful of being so far out of my element, that my innate abilities no longer apply. I feel largely like a “fish out of water”, a “caged bird, denied flight”, a “screwdriver in a world of bolts”.

For over thirty years, I lived in one of the most creative, metropolitan cities in the world — Cape Town. Over the years, I increasingly moved toward not only more creative pursuits, but more artistically creative pursuits. I taught photography, began to teach creativity, wrote, photographed, and edited. I used my creativity to consult to businesses — especially in the realms of customer support & service, staff development, technology, etc. I set up and consulted to non-profit, community projects. Most of the people around me were creative people in one sense or another. Even those that didn’t consider themselves as creatives, generally embraced the benefits of, and supported creativity.

Now, I live in a small (mostly) sugar-cane farming town. If one wasn’t born here, then forming business and/or social connections is really tough. I call it the “Zululand Club” — membership by birth. In my experience, if people think of creativity at all, they think of art, crafts, or music — definitely not business.

Okay, that’s enough of that. I’m sure you get the idea — fish out of water — caged bird, denied flight — screwdriver and bolts. Hence, my quest to redefine myself, my creativity, and how I can use it in this “alien” environment.

Oh yes — my fear.

Amazing how easily I deviate from talking about my fear. I blink, and I’ve reverted to explaining it.

I am afraid that I cannot be who I need to be, and do what I need to do in my current environment. (from which there’s currently no escape)

I’m afraid that, at 56-years of age, every attempt may be the last of which I’m capable.

I’m afraid that the stress and illness of the past few years may have damaged me irreparably. (Physically, I feel like I’ve aged 15-years in 3-years)

I’m afraid to try anything because of all of the above fears. How many times does a fish have to flop around on dry land before it recognises that it cannot breathe, let alone climb a tree? How many times does the caged bird batter the bars with its wings before it forgets how to fly and gives up?

So, because of my fear, I’ve stopped giving myself permission to do just about anything I’m not “forced” into doing. If I don’t try, I can’t fail … or is the failure to try, just what is says on the box?

Okay, I know there are some of you reading this, thinking what a weakling (or similar) I am. That’s fine — I think that about myself too.

But, I also know that there are those of you reading this, who have just realised that you’re not alone.

There are those of you reading this, that may look at my life and, from your perception and experience, think I’m doing fine. But then, there are many around you who think the same of you.

There are many of you reading this, who think your problems are not worthy of the pain they cause you, because there are so many others who experience far worse.

No, you’re not just weak or deficient in some way. Pain is, by nature, subjectively experiential, and therefore real.

There are many of you reading this, who may now be realising that you’ve also become the over-protective, helicopter parent in your own life. You may be realising that you’re denying yourself permission to try, fail, or succeed, for fear of failure — just like me.

Are there constructive, creative alternatives to asking, and granting myself permission?

I’m sorry to say that I don’t have too many — if any — definitive answers at present. My personal strategy at the moment is really just to try to power on through. After all, whether I consciously ask permission or not, I must give myself permission if I’m to do anything.

The prime part of the strategy is that I have to be aware of my fear, and that I’m denying myself permission, before I can take the initiative.

I have to “man up” and acknowledge that I’m self-sabotaging before I can hope to remove my self-inflicted shackles.

I have to acknowledge and name my fears before I can overcome my fears. It is only once I’ve “made them real”, that I can take any action.

It is only when I have acknowledged, named, and “owned” my fears that I can see what is really holding me back. Until then, I will (and did) continue to blame my circumstances, people around me, etc. That made it easy to deny myself permission. I could just claim the task as impossible because of “whomever”, or “whatever”.

That’s not to say that the circumstances, toxic people, wrongs committed, etc. aren’t real. They are. But, they are not the things holding me back.

The thing holding me back is my “self-protective” denial of permission to start, to commit, to attempt, to fail … or to succeed.

I know this has not been one of those “5 Secrets to Overcoming …” type articles. But then again, I generally neither write, nor read those anyhow.

The problems of fear and self-permission are not simple, or simply solved in five (or twenty) easy steps. The problems of fear and self-permission are often psychologically, emotionally, and socially complex, and by definition, are deeply embedded in our souls.

So, sorry — no magic bullet. All I can offer is my incomplete, imperfect story, and the knowledge that you are not alone. You are not irremediably weird (at least not in this way 😄), or if you are, there are a few of us.

In the end, it boils down to giving myself permission; permission to acknowledge my fears, to start, to quit, to try, to fail … to succeed.

I hope my story has offered some encouragement and hope.