Creativity is Losing its Relevance — And That Should Worry Us
Twice in the last few months, I’ve heard the same phrase from two people at completely different life stages:
“If I know I’m not going to be really good at it, I don’t see the point in doing it.”
Both were talking about things that genuinely lit them up. One was contemplating a hobby they’d always wanted to try. The other was considering a job that excited them, but which would require further study and a possible career redirection. These weren’t fleeting thoughts. These were the quiet dreams that live just below the surface — the kind that tangle into our sense of purpose and meaning.
It made me pause.
And then I realised how quickly I could rattle off my own list of hobbies or interests: sewing, gin glass making (don't @ me past colleagues I've promised these to), writing, drawing, interior decorating, reading, painting, cooking, baking, jigsaw puzzles, candle making, gardening, solving English crime dramas before the big reveal. I wouldn't call myself “great” at most of them. A few of my creations might get a polite smile at a market stall, but I’m not quitting my day job.
Still, that’s never been the point.
What I love is the process. The joy of learning. The messy, sometimes one-time-only attempts that bring with them stories and laughter. (Like that time I got deep into candle making and used our regular saucepan. The gardenia-scented pasta that followed is still the stuff of legend (ridicule) in my house.) If I only did these tasks for the mastery — once I felt I achieved that, what point is there to continue?
Isn’t that what life is actually about? Experiences, not mastery?
When we stop doing things just for the joy of it, we lose perspective. We start living single-track lives, measuring our worth by how efficient or “productive” we’re being. We stop inviting all the different versions of ourselves to the table and end up having dinner for one. Time becomes something we have to “use well” instead of something we’re allowed to enjoy.
And it doesn’t just stay in our personal lives.
In the workplace, this mindset breeds risk-aversion, perfectionism, and rigidity. People who think broadly or explore new ideas get labelled “eccentric” or “loose units.” We start to see employees struggle with feedback or become deeply reliant on praise because they’re terrified of getting it wrong. Others cling to structure, staying in their lanes, following well-worn paths, and chasing titles that don’t align with anything meaningful.
Worse still, we stop seeing ourselves as creative beings.
But here’s the thing: we are all creative. That’s the human differentiator. We’re wired to imagine, build, and try. When we stop embracing that part of ourselves, we don’t just lose hobbies or interests — we lose identity, resilience, and a sense of possibility. We become AI versions of ourselves (no offence ChatGPT), carefully curated and high-functioning but lacking the messy, glorious edges that make us human.
So how do we get it back?
We start by doing something for no reason other than the enjoyment of it, we get off social media for a few hours and do something without the pressure of posting it. Not because it might turn into a side hustle or rack up likes. Not because we’ll be good at it. Just because we want to. Maybe that means trying the thing you loved as a kid. Maybe it means saying “why not?” instead of “what’s the point?”
It’s not about signing up to a 12-week program or forcing yourself to journal daily (unless that's your thing). It’s about paying attention to what sparks curiosity and letting yourself follow it — even if it’s just for one day (hell, one hour).
Because if we’re not creating, we’re just existing. And we deserve more than that in this one wild and precious life we get the privilege to live.
So let me leave you with this:
If you could wake up tomorrow as an expert in something wildly creative or totally out of character, what would you be doing?
And what’s stopping you from trying it anyway?
Stay Curious,
Claire x
Image by Anna Shvets, courtesy of Pexels