Creating and playing are not distractions from hard times. They are some of the ways we stay human, connected, and able to keep going. If you are carrying a heavy heart right now, you are not alone. Many people I work with feel they are watching systems they depend on fray: people losing care, communities losing safety nets, trust wearing thin. The grief and anger that come with that are not signs of weakness. They are signs that you still care, that you are holding onto your humanness. But I want to talk about two things that often get dismissed as luxuries in moments like this: creativity and play. I think they are closer to necessities than we realize.
Why we need to make things
Destruction can leave us feeling powerless. Everything seems to be happening to us. Creating is one of the most direct ways to reverse that. When you make something, whether a meal, a mural, a zine, a song, a garden bed, a quilt, or a poem, you move from spectator to author. That shift matters psychologically. Helplessness grows when we believe nothing we do has an effect. A creative act, even a tiny one, is evidence to your nervous system that you can still shape something in the world.
Creating also gives grief somewhere to go. Pain that has no outlet tends to harden into numbness or rage. Pain that moves through paint, movement, writing, or music has a chance to become meaning. And when we make things together, such as a community art project, a shared meal, or a protest sign party, we build the kind of connection that holds people up when things get hard.
Why we need to play
Play is easy to wave away as childish or irresponsible, especially when the news is bad. I'd argue the opposite. Play is how a nervous system under strain remembers it is allowed to feel safe, even briefly. Lightness does not mean you are ignoring the heaviness. Humor, silliness, music, movement, and joy can sit right beside grief. Often, they are what make grief survivable. You are not betraying anyone by laughing. You are refilling the tank you need to keep showing up.
A lesson from the dance floor
Dan Savage has described the worst years of the AIDS crisis in a way that has stayed with me. As it was relayed in a 2025 memorial speech, he stated, “During the darkest days of the aids crisis, we buried our friends in the morning, we protested in the afternoon, and we danced all night. The dance kept us in the fight because it was the dance we were fighting for.” In another interview, Savage recalled that the people opposing them were unsettled by one thing in particular: "It drove them crazy when they saw that we were still joyful."
There is a lot to sit with there. Joy was not the opposite of the work. It was part of what made the work possible. Grief and dancing lived in the same day, sometimes the same hour. A community that can only mourn and fight eventually burns out. A community that also plays, creates, and gathers has a reason to endure.
Dancing alone did not end a crisis, and nobody should pretend it does. Play is not the whole plan. But it can be part of one.
Ways to bring more creativity and play into your days
You do not need talent or spare hours. Small and regular creative sparks are more enriching than spontaneous and rare.
Make something with no purpose. Doodle, hum, rearrange a shelf, write three bad sentences. Skip the goal.
Move your body in ways that feel good. Dance in the kitchen. Walk with music. Stretch like a cat.
Make things with other people. Host a craft night, join a community choir, start a group chat that trades silly photos.
Protect a little time for fun. Put it on the calendar the way you would any other commitment.
Let yourself laugh at the right moments. Humor is not disrespect. It is a pressure valve.
Turn your feelings into something. A song, a collage, a letter you never send. Give the heaviness a shape.
Questions to explore
What did I love to make or do for fun before I got so tired?
What would it feel like to create something just because it brings me joy?
Who could I make something with this month?
Where in my life is there room for lightness without guilt?
What this is not
Creativity and play are not a replacement for rest, for care, for therapy, or for taking whatever action feels right to you. They are companions to those things. And you don't need to share my view of what is going wrong in the world to benefit from them. Anyone who is stressed, grieving, or worn thin can use more of both.
An invitation
When so much feels like it is being dismantled, making things and making room for joy are radical acts of faith in the future. “It didn't look like we were going to win then and we did. It doesn't feel like we're going to win now but we could. Keep fighting keep dancing,” Savage stated. We are still here, and we are still capable of feeling, experiencing and creating beauty. Reconnect with your creative side, working through and with the heaviness to find your creative way to stay lit.