Creative Flow

WhY BURNOUT LEAVES NO ROOM TO DREAM

There are few feelings I love more than being in a state of creative flow.

It’s an intoxicating feeling. Ideas come quickly. Connections seem obvious. Possibilities seem to exist everywhere. I feel it viscerally throughout my body—it’s as if something inside of me has to come out.

Creative flow can feel magical, but it cannot be scheduled or generated on command—but it can be cultivated. And that matters, because creativity is not just for artists. We need creativity to solve problems, navigate change, imagine better futures, and lead people through uncertain times. One of my favorite examples of the relationship between creativity and success comes from the world of college basketball.

Years ago, the actor Danny Pudi directed an ESPN “30 for 30” short documentary called “Untucked,” which tells the story of the uniforms of the Marquette University men’s basketball teams during the 1970s. I have used this film countless times when training teams that I have led because, despite being a lifelong Marquette basketball fan, I do not think it is really a story about basketball.

It is a story about a culture where creativity could flow.

The film centers on Bo Ellis, an All-American forward on Marquette’s basketball team, and his interest in fashion design. At a time when nearly every college basketball team wore long jerseys tucked tightly into short shorts, Ellis wanted to crack the mold for what basketball uniforms could look like.

Ellis went to Marquette’s head coach, Al McGuire, and asked if he would be open to him designing new uniforms for the team, and McGuire agreed. Ellis eventually designed an infinitely more modern look than any other team in college basketball, and these jerseys were intentionally made to be worn untucked.

The uniforms became iconic, in part because Marquette went on to win the 1977 national championship. And that’s what makes this story so compelling to me: in the 1970’s Marquette was not just a funky and quirky team (like their coach), they were also one of the most dominant teams in the country. Only UCLA had more wins than them during the 1970s.

In my living room, I have one of these untucked Marquette jerseys framed on the wall as a persistent reminder of what’s possible when people feel empowered to tap into their creative greatness. Bo Ellis was on a team that made space for creativity. He was surrounded by people who were willing to try something new, even if it looked unusual at first. He had a coach who understood that innovation often comes from giving people room to think, play, and imagine.

Al McGuire was famous for occasionally skipping practice and getting on his motorcycle to just drive. Sometimes he would literally head in the opposite direction of the Marquette gym. His ideas needed to breathe. I also do some of my best thinking when I just get in my car and drive—confident that I will find things that will spark new ways of thinking within me.

Creativity cannot thrive when every moment is scheduled, every problem is urgent, and every ounce of your energy is spoken for.

When people are exhausted, they stop dreaming. They stop experimenting. They stop playing. They stop noticing possibilities. Their world becomes smaller. Their focus narrows to whatever is directly in front of them. Get through the meeting. Answer the email. Survive the week.

Creativity cannot thrive in survival mode.

Ironically, the more burned out we become, the more we often double down on the habits that are hurting us. We work longer hours. We schedule every minute. We convince ourselves that rest is lazy or unproductive.

To be clear, I struggle with this constantly.

But I know in my soul, that I need space to find creative flow.

Maybe it is a walk without your phone. A notebook and a quiet coffee shop. A road trip. An afternoon outside. A conversation with someone who sees the world differently than you do.

Whatever it is, I lovingly challenge you to do it.

My best ideas rarely arrive when I am sprinting from one obligation to the next. They tend to show up when I can finally exhale.

That is part of what we hope to create through our work at the Solidago Institute. Space to pause, reflect, and reconnect with yourself and other people. Space to let fresh ideas about work, life, leadership, and community to breathe.

Because nothing grows in burnout. But with the right conditions, almost anything can grow.

If you’re interested in our virtual workshop later this year all about nurturing creativity, drop me a note at billy@solidagoinstitute.org.