Life is a Creative Act

“The chief enemy of creativity is good sense.”

– Pablo Picasso

It seems like we confuse intelligence with creativity all the time. Actually some of the most creative people in the world, the most powerful and impactful, were probably of just average intelligence. Of course, if you happen to be both, and you’ve gotten your intelligence to serve your creative parts then you’re probably on your way to being a real force somewhere in the world. But something else is more important than intelligence and that is knowing the mechanism by which the creative switch is flipped on. Those who study creativity talk a lot about getting lost first, or abandoning everything you’re comfortable with, or completely ditching your familiar tools, conventions and hand-holds. It’s a little like throwing down your mental crutches “believing” you will not only walk but glide.  This is the part of creativity that I think rules the whole process: courage to be different.

If you think of having a creative flourish as a bit like discovering a new, previously undiscovered destination then it helps to think of it as getting off the road you usually take and just heading into the woods with no directions, none. No maps, no GPS, no compass, no written way, no advice from others. The road you’re generally on has ruts and no matter your intention to change where you’re going, you will sink into those ruts and end up where you always do. I’m chiefly talking about thinking and intuition here, the ruts in the mind that are constantly reinforced by our interior dialogue. Our routine, rutted experience of ourselves. In my case my “Billness” and my experience of my own “blah-blah-blah”.  I frequently feel monotony getting in my way but I lack courage and determination to throw myself into a new direction.

But those nets were their ruts. They were the “familiar way home”. But something in that call was irresistible. They heard it, reflected on it briefly, and then took off, just dropped the nets and walked away.

Children do not find this kind of repetition monotonous.  They need those behavioral furrows and that’s why they like the same story read to them over and over again every night. Or people listen to the same record, memorizing all the lyrics, play exactly the same game with their friends – those neuro-pathways are needing repetition to strengthen the parts of the brain associated with literacy, logic, problem solving and information processing. But later in life our brain has that part of its development down, and is now looking for a new adventure. It wants to try being “left-handed.”  But it’s hard to know how to prompt it. In an advanced career, some song writers start tuning the guitar in tunings that they are totally unfamiliar with. Joe Zawinul of the band Weather Report created a piano with the lowest keys on the right and the highest on the left, the scale running backward. It prompted an entirely new way to think about musical structure and composition and produced some of his best material.

And I’m not just talking about being an artist or musician or painter, those people can also get rutted and stale and begin cranking out commercial art that doesn’t serve anybody. But rather I prefer to think of life itself as a creative act.  Any life, every life.  It may take many attempts at creating a life that you’re happy with, but when you seize it, then at least it will be yours and not somebody else’s.  Be certain that the fountain of your creativity is authentic and fresh not a collection of stale shoulds.  This kind of revolution could be career change, or a novel approach to work/life balance, or learning to do something recreational on the weekends, or much more creative ways to have friends or be a more interesting spouse.  Living is art, not the accumulation of safe, rational, calculated moves. It’s hard to quit thinking about how every choice protects you and just get lost.  But when you do, you get to see what chooses you instead leaning on your comfortable choices. You start a new journey with a surprise.  

I think a wonderful analogy for this wildness and spontaneity is Jesus saying “Leave your nets and follow me” to Peter and Andrew and other disciples. They only knew fishing, it was certainly their source of income and way of life.  But those nets were their ruts. They were the “familiar way home”. But something in that call was irresistible. They heard it, reflected on it briefly, and then took off, just dropped the nets and walked away. “From now on you’ll catch men” – what must they have thought of that proposition on day one? Perhaps only that we want to know more. Above everything else, you must first be curious, terminally curious, and sick with curiosity, driven mad with it.  Where will this go?  How could I manage it?  Am I really up for this adventure? 

In church work we might say those nets are the dogma, the doctrines, the creeds and traditions, “the way we’ve always done it”. Leave it. Put them down if you want a real adventure, leave them all and head for the woods without a plan.

And of course to be creative is to take big risks.  You’re immediately paying a price. Others will not understand you. You will feel unsafe and ill prepared. Good. You’re leaving the comfortable place of your own intelligence and moving into the part of your soul that navigates uncharted waters. Do you have courage?  Just leap first, courage rises up like a net.  You’re waking up new instruments, new compasses and maps. You’re rousing the part of your psyche that sizzles with adventure, the part that usually lies there dormant, waiting for something, anything, some inspiration or muse to come along and stir it. Again, not just for the artists and writers, but anyone who wants a life that transcends routine and knows no boredom. Maybe that’s not you or has ever been you. I would say if you can’t identify with at least some of these feelings, then you’re probably in the minority.  If you want to feel alive again, find your creative center.  Life is a creative act, what else really could it be?  It began with a creative act at the first of your conceptions.