All creative work depends on making choices, but for me like this week, choice can be a dangerous trigger.

It goes like this: I want to create—something, but I don’t know what. And because I enjoy many kinds of art and many kinds of media, I start to feel overwhelmed with options. And then, once overwhelmed, I suddenly find myself on the witness stand of my own mind being interrogated by my internal prosecutor.

“What will you make?”

“I don’t know!”

“You don’t know? Well, why not? You should know, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes.”

“Why can’t you choose? Do you have an imagination problem…?”

I could stay stuck right here, trembling in self-doubt, but that would be really unproductive—and since this is not an unfamiliar pattern, I thought I’d share what I think this trigger actually is—and how to get out of it.

First and last: this is existential fear

I’m afraid. I’m afraid of making a choice—for a lot of reasons. That I might fail. That I might disappoint myself. I’m afraid that by doing one thing—choosing—I’m missing out on all the other art I could make—or maybe more accurately, the art I suspect I should make.

Because somewhere inside there’s a voice that tells me that there’s something I’m here to do— and I might make the wrong choice, one that doesn’t fulfill that mysterious sense of purpose I don’t really understand—and yes I’m also afraid that maybe I’m wrong. There is no purpose. Whatever I do might be pointless.

And here’s where the truth gets deep because…

What if I am in fact pointless?

And if so—why make choices at all?

Ooh, I know. I told you I was going deep.

But there you have it.

***

So when I fall into this choice-overwhelm-judgement cycle, what do I do about it?

Well, first, honestly, I have to talk myself off the stand. Bring in my own defense attorney sort of speak, who reminds me to say what I know to be true.

Yes, in the material world as we know it, who we are and what we do will be washed away by the tides of time. We are all seemingly grains of sand and we only have the present moment. That appears to be the Life and Death contract.

HOWEVER, given the Mystery and the immaterial world as we don’t understand it (Mystery being what I call the greater power of the universe, but choose your own noun if you prefer: God, Source, Universe)—none of us can tell the unpredictable impact we each have on others…which impacts others which impacts others…

One thing that is observationally true in life as we know it: The butterfly effect is real.

Who am I to predict the outcome of my work (or my life)?

I am not the one to know.

And that’s how I put my existential fear put to rest (this time, for this moment).

I remember what I know to be true about art—and life.

I don’t know much.

But I do know that I create because I need to create—and that has to be reason enough. I give everything else to the Mystery.

And finally, I do know one other thing about creativity.

When in doubt? Just start.

Start something. Anything!

“Just start” is the secret sauce: When you don’t know what to make, or how—or whether it matters if you do anyway—choose something very small—a color, a line—and begin.

And then, a funny thing happens every time. The fear recedes and curiosity takes hold. What is the next thing to do? And the next?

And pretty soon, I’m following my heart—the courtroom of my mind put to rest.

And this week it was a tailspin.

(Who am I to judge?)