I have taken a hundred and two-day voluntary hiatus from writing for this blog. Not for my usual reasons for never posting: for example, crippling imposter syndrome or being all-around uninspired but, rather a different and more unusual reason. I have been doing well. For the past hundred and two days, I have been reading, exercising, vacationing, dancing, and making money. (I write this part with a smirk) 

Last Monday, I took it upon myself to buy a plant which I have been feeding stale water from my bedside every three days and giving lots of sunlight. I ask the kids from my job at the pre-school what I should name my plant and every answer they give me makes the smile on my face grow greater and larger. But it is difficult for me to write with an ear-to-ear grin yet undemanding with an introspective frown. 

With this, I coined the term “Depression Intelligence,” which means, in simple terms, to believe you are smarter when you are sadder, that you are more profound near rock bottom than when uplifted. There is a small area a few inches above rock bottom where genius is born, and it is very difficult to reach. Who has? All the sad people we adore from Plath to Dickens to Van-Gogh. I have not gotten close to this area, the reason being I am far too cautious and I love myself far too much. So I keep myself higher, away from genius, and closer to happiness. It is a game of tug of war I play with myself but it is time that both hands let go and I let my limbs fall by my sides. 

On page forty-four of Herman Hesse’s Siddartha lies a quote that reads, “I will no longer reduce myself to rubble, in order to discover some secret in the ruins” which Hesse states as Siddartha comes to terms with his enlightenment. However, am I enlightened if my happiness comes at the cost of my creativity? The answer is no. 

As of now, sadness is no longer a feeling but more a tool we exploit to create art. It is no longer pure but a feeling we use as motivation to make others feel the same as us. In this, we lose the beauty of sadness which is that it is our own. 

I’ve realized that forcing yourself to be sad at the means of art is self-harm disguised as a goal. Our emotions are not paintbrushes, or words, or camera angles, or colors. They are feelings. So, the next time you catch yourself feeling truly happy, soak in it, appreciate yourself and the world around you, don’t push the feeling away to get back to work. Happiness is not and will not ever be unproductive. 

~Nirvika Dhanasri