Designing While the World is on Fire

Navigating work, passion, and meaning in overwhelming times

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“Did you hear what happened at the Phoenix airport?” she asked, her eyebrows lifting with anticipation.

I shook my head. “No.” A flicker of guilt settled in my chest.

At the start of the year, I realized that trying to be too informed was taking a toll on my mental state. Every notification, every headline, every “breaking news” story, every new crisis kept my brain locked in fight-or-flight mode. I felt like I was drowning in a constant stream of disasters, each demanding my attention, my outrage, my grief.

In a matter of weeks, that flood of information didn’t just overwhelm me, it left me paralyzed. It felt like I was in that state for so long that ennui settled upon me like thick, stiff, armor-like plates. The urgency that once jolted me into action now washed over me. Everything became harder to engage with, to react to, to care about.

Still, there’s this pressure to stay informed, as if looking away for even a second means failing some unspoken test of awareness. That dreaded moment when you admit you don’t know what someone is talking about, met with a knowing pause and a simple, weighted “Oh.” But at some point, I had to ask myself if staying constantly plugged in was doing more harm than good.

I did what felt counterintuitive: I tuned out. Not completely, not forever, but enough to preserve my sanity. I did it with the guilt of knowing that stepping back is a privilege, that I have the choice to disengage while so many don’t. I also knew that running myself into the ground with outrage and exhaustion wouldn’t help anyone. It goes back to what I wrote recently, about not pouring from an empty cup. Tuning out wasn’t about apathy. It was about making sure I had something left to give.

I started scheduling time to catch up on the news, setting limits so I wasn’t living in a constant state of reaction. It became a form of self-preservation, a way to stay aware without letting awareness consume me.

And yet, even with those boundaries, the weight of the world is still there. You don’t have to follow every headline to feel it. It lingers in the background of daily life, making everything feel slower, harder, and sometimes, meaningless. It seeps into our work, creativity, and the way we move through the day, dulling the passion we‘re so desperately trying to hold onto.

When Design Feels Shallow

Passion is hard to sustain when everything feels like it’s falling apart. Even when we try to focus, the relentless state of the world can make it difficult to care. On the hardest days, it feels impossible .

How are we supposed to care about design when countries are in turmoil and the world is both literally and figuratively on fire? How do we keep showing up? How do we continue creating and finding purpose when so much of it feels insignificant by comparison? Focusing on what we do can feels shallow, like a luxury. It can feel like a distraction from real problems.

But even within design itself, the conversations are complicated. AI, the so-called future of innovation, is projected to have a negative impact on the environment. The very thing dominating tech right now comes with its own consequences. At the same time, the industry is experiencing ruthless waves of layoffs, leaving talented designers questioning their value in a space that once felt full of possibility. The very systems we help build are shifting beneath us, making it harder to know where we stand.

You can’t escape the bad news. It’s everywhere, seeping into every industry, every space, every moment of the day.

Ugh.

In the middle of all this uncertainty, I have to remind myself why design matters in the first place, how I can shift my perspective to make it through, and why, despite everything, I refuse to lose my sense of purpose. This is my career, my craft, and the way I move through the world. If I let the things I can’t control extinguish my passion, I lose the ability to create things that brings meaning, connection, or even a brief moment of clarity.

Finding something to lean on in all of this isn’t about blind optimism. It’s about remembering that design, when done with intention, can still be a force for something good.

Make It Mean Something

When you think about it, design has an enormous influence on how people experience the world. Much of it is invisible, seamlessly integrated into daily life, yet it shapes the way we interact, make decisions, and form beliefs. If design holds that much power, maybe the answer isn’t in changing the entire system, but in focusing on the small, everyday choices within our control.

Some of the most meaningful design choices are also the quietest. A more accessible interface, a thoughtfully chosen word, or a small tweak that makes someone feel seen. These moments might go unnoticed, but they shape experiences in ways that can matter and leave an impact.

So maybe the answer lies in that kind of intentionality. In embracing the subtle but purposeful details that give our work meaning, even when the world feels like it is caving in on us. Even then, we can still create something that makes a difference for someone.

Looking Through a Different Lens

It’s easy to lose sight of the why, to get caught in the urgency of the now, and to feel untethered from what‘s certain. But sometimes grounding comes from small moments, a shift in perspective, a quiet reminder, or a simple act of intention.

I’ve been searching for ways to stay anchored and I’ll share a few things that have been helping me reframe my perspective. Not revolutionary ideas, just reminders that even in uncertain times, there are ways to move forward with intention.

Designing for people, not companies → Lately, I’ve been craving art, finding myself drawn to galleries and museums more than usual. I think it’s because art has a way of cutting through the noise, speaking to people on a human level rather than as consumers. It connects emotionally and culturally, often giving a voice to those who have been overlooked. Design has that same potential, and in many ways, we already consider the people behind the products we create. But how often do we go beyond personas and truly think about the real lives behind the demographic?

It’s not just about how someone uses a product, but how it fits into the reality of their life. Are we designing in ways that assume unlimited time, resources, or access? Are we making choices that acknowledge the complexity of human experiences, or just optimizing for the “average user”? How can we be more thoughtful in our approach, designing with empathy and intention, not just for audiences, but for individuals?

Instead of designing for a company, we could think about who will actually interact with what we’re creating. Who will use this product? Is it a small business owner trying to make ends meet while keeping their dream alive? Is it a college student navigating adulthood, trying to make smart decisions with limited resources? Is it a traveler in an unfamiliar city, feeling lost and just wanting something to make sense? Is it a parent juggling endless responsibilities, looking for something that simply makes their day a little easier? What can you do to make their experience easier, clearer, or more enjoyable? How can you impact their lives in a meaningful way?

As designers, remembering that we create for people rather than just personas, products, businesses, or clients can make even uninspiring projects feel more meaningful.

Use constraints as a challenge → Even if the project isn’t something you’re deeply passionate about, there’s always a creative challenge to be solved. Can you make something feel more intuitive? Can you push the brand’s visual identity in a new way? Is there a pattern you can break to discover something better? Can you find ways to create new processes that make your job more efficient, easier?

Sometimes, constraints aren’t just about limitations but about making conscious decisions. Choosing to use fewer resources, designing with accessibility in mind, or simplifying rather than overcomplicating can be creative challenges in themselves. Innovation doesn’t always come from adding more. Sometimes, it’s about refining what’s already there.

Fostering connection and engagement → Design has the power to create platforms and experiences that bring people together. It might be a thoughtfully designed digital space, a simple feature like Spotify’s collaborative playlists that helps friends feel connected across distances, or a kind confirmation message that adds a human touch to an interaction.

Beyond functionality, design can create moments of joy, recognition, or relief. A well-placed animation, an unexpected but thoughtful message, or an intuitive experience that feels like it just “gets” the user can leave a lasting impression. In an era of overstimulation, sometimes the most powerful design choice is simply making someone feel understood.

In times like these, small design choices that foster connection and feel more human matter more than ever.

Making our own spaces in the digital world → As spaces for diverse voices shrink, we still have the power to design our own. By being intentional, we can create room for more people in the spaces we shape. Design gives us the opportunity to influence whose stories are told and whose perspectives are prioritized.

The digital world isn’t neutral; it reflects the choices we make as designers. The algorithms we write, the interfaces we create, and the voices we amplify shape the spaces people spend their time in. If existing spaces don’t serve people equitably, we have a chance to create something better.

Small, thoughtful choices in storytelling, imagery, and user experience can make a difference. When Airbnb adjusted its platform to reduce racial bias by limiting the visibility of guests’ names before a reservation was confirmed, it was a simple change with a meaningful impact. Decisions like these may seem subtle, but they can make digital spaces more fair, inclusive, and welcoming for everyone.

Not everything has to change the world → Real talk: not everything you design will (or needs to) change culture, challenge norms, or push boundaries. Sometimes, design is just design. That doesn’t mean your work is meaningless. It means you’re balancing the reality of making a living with the pursuit of purpose. There will be projects that feel deeply aligned, and there will be projects that aren’t quite that. Both have a place.

When your world feels this heavy too, it’s okay to release the weight of your own expectations and allow yourself to simply exist. Creativity ebbs and flows, and not every project needs to be groundbreaking to be valuable.

Remember that one season isn’t career-defining → It’s important to remember that one season of uninspired work doesn’t mean you’ve lost your way, and one uninspiring project doesn’t define your career. If anything, moments like this give contrast and clarity, helping you recognize what truly excites and motivates you when those projects do come along.

It’s okay if you’re not feeling every project. It’s okay to be in a season of learning, waiting, or just showing up. We don’t have to be in a constant state of inspiration.

Less is More

At the end of the day, the goal isn’t to force passion into every project, but to stay connected to why you design in the first place. Even when the work doesn’t feel transformative, you’re still honing a skill, building a career, and contributing in ways you might not immediately see.

Designing while the world is on fire isn’t about ignoring the flames or pretending they don’t exist. It’s about choosing to create anyway. It’s about making space for thoughtfulness, for clarity, and for connection.

Social media has made it seem like everything needs to be monumental, flawless, and exhilarating. That every action should spark awe, every decision should give you goosebumps, and life itself should feel cinematic, as if fireworks should go off behind you as you walk. But maybe the most radical thing we can do is embrace the small, the quiet, and the deeply human.

So be gentle with yourself. Creation doesn’t always have to be extraordinary to be meaningful. There is value in the act of creating, in finding meaning where you can, and in making something, anything, amidst the overwhelm.

Give yourself permission to slow down when you need to and speed up when you’re ready, all at your own pace.

And in the end, sometimes less isn’t just more, it’s enough.

xo,
Natalie