If you’re finding it hard to sustain a creative practice
amid cascading crises, you’re not alone. One of my ongoing challenges is making time for art when so much else feels urgent. With new headlines every day and the gravitational pull of doomscrolling, it’s easy to let practice slip.
Whether you are a professional artist, a committed hobbyist, or someone who turns to art for restoration, here are practical ways to keep making during turbulent times. This essay is part of Rebecca’s Third Act, a series documenting my midlife reboot—parenting, career, theatermaking, and my own body are all in motion. I hope these practices offer steadiness and space to imagine what comes next.
As a theater director, writer, and long‑time experimenter across forms, I’ve learned what genuinely supports creativity in difficult periods—and what does not.
What We're NOT Going to Do
A quick note on what we’re not doing. We’re not prescribing daily quotas or “don’t break the chain” rules. That approach has rarely worked for me and is unrealistic for many people navigating caregiving, day jobs, and the current news cycle.
I’ve fallen into all‑or‑nothing thinking more times than I can count and have too often chosen “never” when I couldn’t choose “every day.” Instead, let’s explore small, sustainable practices you can carry even when our civic life feels precarious. As a bonus, they help you stay grounded, remember you have a body, and live in the world—not only inside a screen.
Black and white image of a man facing an approaching giant wave. Photo by Kammeran Gonzalez-Keola.
Understanding Our Polycrisis Moment
We are living through a polycrisis: overlapping crises unfolding at once. That reality is unlikely to recede soon, so strengthening our capacity to make art amid disruption matters.
Creativity is one way we imagine better worlds. The challenges we face—climate change, political upheaval, economic uncertainty, and social division—require creative responses. But how do we keep our creative muscles strong when the news cycle is relentless?
The answer isn’t to retreat from creativity; it’s to find ways of practicing that fit the present moment rather than fight it.
Four Sustainable Creative Practices for Crisis Times
1. Grounding: Connecting to Your Body and Earth
Anything that deepens connection to your body and to the earth counts as creative practice—and it’s the most reliable way I know to slow down, breathe, and step off the news treadmill.
My favorite grounding practice is to go into the backyard early and place my feet on the ground, barefoot if it’s not too cold. Even a few breaths make a difference. Morning sunlight also supports healthy cortisol rhythms, so this practice does double duty.
If getting outside isn’t possible, lie down on the floor and feel the earth beneath you, even through the building. Notice your weight being supported. Or try pressing your palms gently over your eyes and take five slow breaths; the light pressure can help activate your parasympathetic nervous system.
The beauty of grounding is that it requires no materials, no special skills, and very little time. Whether you have two minutes or twenty, it reminds your nervous system that you are safe in this moment, creating space for creativity to flow.
2. Noodling: Playing Without Goals
This practice takes one element of your medium—or one you want to explore—and lets you play with it without goals or judgment.
Some people prefer a touch of structure: writers might list words from A to Z; poets might draft a quick haiku about what they see outside; dancers might repeat a short phrase; musicians might improvise on a simple progression.
For me as a theater director, I sometimes stand or sit in different positions and notice how the room’s energy shifts with orientation. Facing a corner, turning to center, lying on the floor—each position produces a different feeling, and I simply observe what emerges without trying to make it “useful.”
The point is to stay in relationship with your medium without the pressure to produce. Think of it as a relaxed conversation with a longtime friend—easy, familiar, and still surprising.
3. Do Something You're Bad At
A favorite practice: make something in a medium where you have no training. When your primary form carries high expectations, expertise can become a burden; you instantly feel the gap between intention and result.
In an unfamiliar medium, expectations drop. For me, that’s visual art. I’ll make a quick watercolor or even use a coloring book. Accepting that the result will be unpolished frees me to enjoy the making.
For you, it may be the reverse: a visual artist tries a poem; a musician plays with clay. The medium doesn’t matter. What matters is choosing a space where judgment is quiet because you never expected mastery.
This practice interrupts perfectionism. When everything feels high‑stakes, a low‑stakes outlet helps you maintain your relationship with making.
4. Notice Yourself Noticing
A practice I call “Seeds”: every Friday I write a list of ideas, images, and projects that are holding my attention. I don’t look at last week’s list until I finish this week’s; then I scan for patterns.
For example, if “drumming” appears three weeks in a row, I take note. There’s no pressure to act immediately. I simply offer a bit more attention to that theme over the next couple of weeks.
Instead of scrolling, I might watch a short video on rhythm, tap patterns on my desk, or listen to percussion‑forward music. I’m not committing to lessons; I’m acknowledging that rhythm is speaking to me right now.
This works because it lets you notice what wants to emerge without demanding immediate action. Sometimes these seeds grow into major projects; other times they add texture to daily life. Both outcomes are valuable.
Starting Small in Big Times
The goal is not to solve every creative challenge or suddenly become maximally productive. These are demanding times, and survival itself is creative work. If you manage one practice this week, that’s enough. If some weeks you manage none, that’s okay.
What we’re building is resilience: a steady connection to creativity even when the world feels uncertain. We need people who can imagine different ways of being, different solutions, and different stories about what’s possible.
By keeping your practice alive in whatever small way you can, you care for yourself—and you maintain the capacity to contribute to the larger work of imagining and building better futures.
Artist Spotlight
Katrina Rodabaugh is an artist, author, and educator known for her work in slow fashion, visible mending, and sustainable textiles. She’s an old friend and I’ve loved watching her practice evolve over years. Last year I took her creative process class, which offered a clear, kind framework for moving ideas from spark to steady practice. Her teaching centers process, attention, and values‑aligned making. Highlights included weekly prompts that emphasized noticing over output, gentle accountability through reflective check‑ins, and practical strategies for re‑entering a project after interruption. Her approach pairs rigor with generosity—exactly the combination many of us need in a polycrisis.
Explore her work and offerings at katrinarodabaugh.com.
Your Next Steps
I invite you to try one or more of these practices this week. Start small: five minutes of grounding, or a brief noodling session with whatever materials are nearby. Notice how it feels to prioritize creativity, even in a modest way, in intense times.
Remember: the goal isn’t perfection or productivity. It’s staying connected to the part of you that makes, plays, and imagines. That part of you is needed now.
What creative practice will you try first? I’d love to hear how these approaches work for you and what you discover along the way.