This thought comes to me more often than I would want.
I see others doing creative things, and I think "I can do that easily!" But then the immediate following thought is : "What is the point?"
I can do a lot of things to better myself, then again, "What is the point?"
With this chain of thought, I do not see the point in doing anything at all.
In the end, it is not going to matter at all, so what is the point really?
I am sure lot of us blessed/cursed with a creative brain often go though existential thoughts like these.
The question is how do we go from the last line of Bohemian Rhapsody - "Nothing really matters" to the chorus of the Metallica song "Nothing else matters" ?
Do these existential thoughts mean we do not do anything? We do not strive to make/achieve anything at all?
What did the people who made some great works of art think when they were making it?
At its core, this - "What is the point?" - question is always directed towards the reaction of others:
What is the point if no-one is going to appreciate it?
What is the point if no-one sees it?
What is the point if no-one cares about it?
What is the point if there is so much else going on in the world... why would my work even matter?
Most of the time, I am thinking about the future and the impact of the work. And when I don't see it going anywhere or don't really see a future for it, I think "What is the point?"
It sucks that most of the time we have to think about "monetisation" of something which was, at its genesis, a pure and innocent pursuit of expression.
It sucks that we have to make compromises and create constrains in the interest of marketability and commercial appeal.
It sucks that to be relevant in the age of content we need to produce something consistently on demand without down-time at the risk of it being consistently mediocre rather than a good/great work every now and then.
It sucks that even thought your interests are so varied, you need to keep focusing on a topic or and art or a genre to make it identify-able with your "brand".
Then I realised what a farce my creation is
For it is just transient
For it does not inspire change
For it incites mere gloating on perceived greatness
And I accepted ruin
Then the creation spoke to me
For it awaited me to take a step back
For I was to realise the reality
For I needed to burn this Phoenix of mine
And the creation transformed into forever
The core issue here is that - it is not about others.
Life is like a single person internal game.
It is about YOU.
Does it matter to YOU?
Does it matter to ME?
What was I thinking when I made all the things that I have made?
A lot of things I have made are pointless. But they mattered to me.
Maybe they amused me.
Maybe they made me smile and feel good.
Maybe they helped me vent out and feel calm.
Isn't that reason enough?
So What is the point?
There is no point at all. It is pointless. I just want to do things because they are pointless.
The things I make can make their own points. They can go ahead and make whole lines if they want to... make words and sentences... write a whole book... go nuts!
It is their journey - after I've let them out into the world.
But when I was making them, they were pointless. And that is how I want things to be. Making things just because I felt like it.
