It’s almost too much. We in the US are dealing with far too many negatives in our lives at the moment to fully concentrate on creating. First we are trying to stay healthy and safe, which is easier for some than for others. For those of us fortunate enough to be able to work at our day jobs from home, the risk is somewhat diminished; however, that sheltering in place keeps us isolated. And that isolation can be detrimental to our mental health unless we are prepared to deal with it. Working from home presents its own set of challenges even after this length of time. We don’t quite ever have the tools we used to have, so every day is a learning experience as we discover new means and methods to accomplish our tasks.

Added to that, we hear news every day that more and more cases of COVID-19 are occurring and that the death toll continues to rise. Things are not getting better. And that weighs on us because it means that we must look at more weeks and months of isolation—if we are to stay safe and healthy. In addition to that, we also hear every day about police violence and brutality, about systemic racism and its impact on people’s lives, about political campaigns built on fear and lies.

And so we fret and worry and try with everything in us to make some kind of sense out of it all, to come to terms with our own situation and the state of the country. And it’s almost too much.

And then, the one-too-many headline comes and we don’t even bother to read the attendant article. The line has been crossed; it’s finally too much. Tears are not a choice; we are already dry and have been for months. The other choice is to close down, to go numb. Numb is when nothing gets to us; nothing touches us; nothing matters; the world moves on without us, because we are in an unfeeling existence.

Make no mistake, numbness is comfortable. We don’t hurt anymore; we don’t worry anymore; we’re not concerned any more. And it’s easy because we are used to hunkering down alone. There is, however, a down side: since we no longer feel, we don’t create; we don’t produce. We spend our time scrolling through Twitter or Instagram or YouTube or staring off into space and doing mostly nothing. But it’s okay because it doesn’t hurt any more. It can last for days or weeks or months or forever. We are comfortably numb.

The problem is that all the things we were concerned about before are still there, and, if we are to be honest, still need our attention. Even in our isolation there are things we can do. There are posts we can write. There are comments we can make. There are people that we can influence. There is creative work we can do. There are ideas and artifacts we can produce.

So when that one-too-many headline hits, instead of closing down, we might instead take a day off. Turn off The Washington Post, The New York Times, the Twitter and Instagram feeds. Rest. Breathe. Gather ourselves. Remember who we are and what we’re about. Then—do something creative. Perhaps even produce some art. The world will roll on and we can rejoin it when we are able, but in the meantime we must not allow ourselves to become comfortably numb.

Lately there is a lot of concern about the future; just plug “future of” into Google and look at the drop-down. We are concerned about the future of live theatre, live music, learning, visual arts, libraries, plastic arts, restaurants, bars, art galleries, movies, story-telling in general, and on and on. Not only are we worried about whether all of those activities and institutions will survive COVID-19, but what they will look like when and if they do.

And there’s the problem of dealing with the virus itself, of trying to stay healthy and safe and at the same time continuing to live when the means of making a living have for many simply ceased to be. Many in the service sector have seen their businesses closed because of coronavirus lockdowns. Artists are without venues or patrons or customers. All are wondering when things are going to get better.

Then there’s the political situation: wondering what the country will look like after November. Will the current administration stay in power, and if so, what will that look like? If the current administration is removed from office, will it follow tradition and pass power peacefully to the winning party or will the transition be difficult and strife-torn? And what changes will that winning party bring?

And that’s not the only political issue on people’s minds. There is the push for finally achieving racial equality as well as reducing police violence and abuse. These movements are intertwined and connected to the overall political questions, but they are separate issues that occupy the thoughts of many. And while small steps are being made, most people see these as future goals.

One thing that all of these concerns have in common is that they fill us with confusion, uncertainty, anxiety, stress, and for some, depression. That we are trying to deal with them all at once only adds to those feelings. Another thing that they all have in common is that they are focused on the future, so they take our minds to a place that is even more uncertain than our present. We humans are a very adaptable species, but we really need to know what we are adapting to, and the ambiguity of the future leaves us at a loss that only adds to our anxiety.

One solution is to stop focusing on that undefined future and focus on the present. But our focus needs to be even further refined. Some who look to the present give their attention to what they can’t do. In communicating recently with actors, musicians, directors, designers, I have heard over and over again what they couldn’t do. In some cases these complaints were serious in that they restrained income; in other cases, it seemed to amount to whining. In any case, concentrating on what can’t be done is not useful.

What is useful is letting go of not only the future, but of what can’t be accomplished. What we need to do is concentrate on the present—on what we can do. For example, I know of an actor who is writing poetry, another who is writing a play, a photographer who is making Christmas cards, a writer who is tending a garden. In none of these cases are the artists doing what they would like to be doing, but they are doing something positive, and it provides much needed work for their hands and for their heads.

And like them, we may choose to focus on a project that may not be what we want to do; it may not be what will increase our income, but it will give us a better state of mind. It will allow us to engage our creativity. It will reduce our feeling of helplessness. It will allow us to make it through another day. It might provide us a moment of accomplishment. It might engender our next big project. Whatever it does, it will allow us to make art—even in the middle of all this.