It's not that I want an apocalypse, BUT...

A lot of TV is escapism. Especially these days. The New Yorker staff writer Kyle Chayka told me how, in this overwhelming world, at this crazy pace of life, people don't want to be challenged by their culture. (Hear that chat here) That's how the suggestions, recommendations, the something-else-you-might-likes, and Friends re-runs feed an increasingly narrow diet of music, films, or audiobooks.

But somewhere along the way, having started in 2011, I noticed that watching The Walking Dead brought me not just comfort, but some part of me yearned to be in its post-apocalyptic world. I didn't really want the zombies, despite the warped joy of some of the more creative kills. So what was it? I didn't overthink it, just found myself adding a new blanket to my pile during the October-onwards batch of new episodes, and blocking out as much light as possible to heighten that hour of pleasure.

For one hour, I could forget about the rest of my life. And therein lies the key to my yearning: the rest. There's much to like about my life. I don't live under immediate threat of war, or violence. I'm often skint and suffer long, testing quiet work spells, but work is also my passion and I have no desire for riches, so I work through. Back in 2011 I had love life woes, but little more than the standard 'young bloke needs to sort his head out' stuff. I had a roof over my head, lots of great friends and family members, and food wasn't scarce. But the nature of my existence, and many of our lives in western societies was riddled with issues I didn't consciously grasp back then. Issues like social media, which left me scatterbrained and stressed. I saw it messing up young minds and confiscating so much of our collective time and ambition. I saw it skewing our perception of others and the state of things. Issues like urbanisation and the biodiversity crisis. Hypercapitalism and growing climate and mental health crises. Of course, all of the above are interlinked, and something about the AMC-made world beyond my screen felt in many ways more desirable.

For starters, look at those lovely views. The survivors of the zombie apocalypse are well-attuned with nature, filling their biophilic boots at every turn. Despite their struggles, they're faced with rapidly embracing the outdoors, physical activity, and primal release. These desk lives of ours leave us bereft of those essentials for optimal creativity.

Then the community. Ohhhhh the community. Granted: some want to beat each other to death and the likes, but fireside chats, cooperation, and risk management are through the roof. They know their neighbours, and can't just order stuff off Amazon, or go to a Youtube tutorial to learn how to shave or fix things, using precious electricity and fresh water (cooling those data centers) in the process. They'll never know the rage after receiving a photograph of their parcel left on someone else's doorstep. So favours are asked, skills are shared, and learning - with no tuition fees, exams, or Ofsted - is in full swing.

For those of you lamenting health and safety and liability culture... need I say more?

Screens are a thing of the past, so thumbs get a rest, we start walking upright again, and imaginations return to the throne. No couples will have to across the room in fury again when a question goes unanswered. At least not for the same reasons.

As this train of thought gathered pace, I got out 'The Creative Condition' 'Anatomy of Creativity' map and started to look through the various sections. This map is my ecosystem within which I work with my coaching clients. It's in 10 sections including 'body and brain, 'environment', 'inspiration', and so on. In the vast majority of instances, there was an argument to be made that in this post-apocalyptic world, albeit without a commercial world to apply it to, things were pretty well-catered for.

So I began to consider it both ways. Which aspects of the world I inhabit today would I bring with me to the world of The Walking Dead, and vice versa? Going the other way, I'd pack light. There'd be hospitals of course. Better shelter. A few more clothes. Libraries and some art galleries. Then something strange happened. Quite quickly I found myself arguing in my mind about most things. At first, I thought, 'Let's go Nokia 3310 and cap it there' before reverting to landlines. And back again. Football, despite my ongoing addiction and misery, goes in the bin. We'd play it, and that's it.

The truth is that I don't think many of us like capitalism, do we? Be honest. We're limping along, making ends meet, and whether we know it or not, it's not serving the way we've evolved very well.

In my industry, the arts, I think the majority of us would identify the essence of what we're doing and repackage it in any new world. Creativity after all is not about a lot of the shit we find ourselves chasing to get by financially.

I read Athena Aktipis 's fantastic A Field Guide to the Apocalypse and realised I was utterly unprepared for any apocalypse - big or small (house flooding still counts) - and in response, began sourcing items for my 'go-bag' and calling in those local favours to build my local network. That helps mentally.

But perhaps out of all of these observations and ponderings, the sheer noise of our world was the most desirable loss of all. The noise with all its demands, pressures, and inescapable bullshit. No matter the threat of shuffling hordes of 'rotters', those camp fire scenes, and long walks and conversations while looking for food, people, or materials filled me with yearning. During one recent long conversation with a terminally-ill friend, he told me that while it was a strange, and sometimes painful existence, on the good days, he had a renewed clarity of mind because those things that keep us awake at night, in his case, pensions and financing retirement, disappear. My heart hurts for my friend, but I found this profound for all the above reasons. Look what they're making us give.

So, inspired by Athena's smart use of the zombie apocalypse to address bigger issues, I'm using the aforementioned 'keep or bin' exercise to try and work on my life as it is. Because I don't actually want a full-scale collapse. In fact, I'm pretty frightened of it a lot of the time. Addressing the way we've abandoned our evolutionary needs and separated ourselves from the nature to which we belong, upon which we rely is our best chance of a sustainable future. Creativity must fuel such a transition, and will flourish more than ever before when we get there.

See you next time. Ben x

The Creative Condition book is out now: Paperbacks here, e-books here. Audiobook coming soon.

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