Imagine you are building a bridge, while on the bridge.

Amid the constant flow of change, how do we sustain creative production?

Imagine you are building a bridge, while on the bridge. 

You come to in the middle of a great expaense, high above rock and river below. You see the structure you stand on, you see your supplies below, the tools within reach. You know what to do, but also know it won't be easy. 

You'll need to descend the structure, touch ground, and gather supplies. Step by step, wrung by wrung, you climb; piece by piece, you add another step forward. 

At some point in the middle of construction, you run out of supplies and have to fashion more from almost nothing, you have to learn how to fashion new supplies and tools from the raw materials around you. 

At some point, a part of the structure breaks, gives way, and you have to stop and fix it. 

With every bit of progress, there are steps back, there are new problems to solve, there are exhaustion and rest. But you are compelled to keep moving: up and down, back and forth, fits and starts.

The will to create is what we sustain amid the constant flow of change.

We have structure, we have systems, we gain a deeper understanding of our capabilities and how far we can push ourselves and our tools. And yet, all this time, as we endure the ups and downs, the creation and frustration and destruction, the most important result from all of this work is the sharpening and hardening of our will to forge ahead. 

When all is lost, when we are surrounded by ruin, we keep going. 

When we can't muster another thought or mutter another word, let alone stand up or put one foot in front of the other, we blink and breathe, we keep going.

When we reach the end and arrive satisfied, we keep going.

We celebrate the process and the will to create. What comes from that effort, the ultimate success of the poem or film or discovery or bridge, is not for us to say, so we keep going.