Why I told creativity we're in this for life
And how I'm going steady with the muse
Sunscreen, sea levels, climate change. They all matter.
But, for me, so does finding creative flow.
Because that sets my soul aflame.
So I’m making a commitment here to go steady with the muse and explore my creativity daily from now on. And I’ll explain how.
But first, what is it about watching an idea, a colour, a sentence rise and float out of you?
I believe it’s the soaking of yourself in that refreshing spring of life.
That you can drink from again tomorrow.
And the next day.
Forever.
And how about the thrill of recognizing that same stream cascading through others?
We know that someone right now is lighting that creative spark on a stage, in a gallery, at a bookshop, in a garden, in a lab, at the movies. (Of course, I could go on because creativity is literally everywhere).
They’re enjoying the magic of invention:
Of looking at something ordinary (a budgerigar) and seeing it again.
Of turning a marble slab into a David.
Of seeing meaning emerge from tragedy.
Of manifesting beauty from dry earth.
Of witnessing a new round of birth.
Of creating sense from chaos.
Plus, embracing the risk of catastrophe:
It going horribly wrong.
It being ridiculed.
It wasting lots of money.
It turning into a mess.
It flopping spectacularly.
It breaking your heart.
And doesn’t it stir your soul to see the same unfettered flow of life in children?
Because a child is almost always in creative possibility. But especially in the sandpit, in the yard, in the woods, in the kitchen, in the shed, at the easel.
Wherever they’re free to be wildly themselves.
Where they can:
Explore.
Engage.
Experiment.
Make a mess.
Break things.
Live in other worlds.
It’s, of course, no wonder that making things makes us come alive.
Because it’s where we open ourselves to the dangerous, slippery, fast-moving current of life. Stuff happens there, and triumph and disaster are both imminent.
So, today, I resolve to stay with that edgy impulse to create. In midlife, I’m grateful that I can. I see it as a precious gift.
Because, as Ursula Leguin says,
The creative adult is the child who survived.
And to make this work, I plan to do what, as far as I can see, all creators do.
That means:
Steal and adapt. Don’t strain on being original. If an idea comes to me, I’ll follow its scent, and if I find others who’ve been there before me, I’ll say hi and stop to chat. And enjoy the openness that most creators share. I’ll embellish my idea with theirs. Then it’s mine, right?
Play “What if?” Dare to daydream and play with possibilities. Enjoy exploring and giving my mind and heart free rein. Imagine new worlds and entertain alternate universes. Jump out of the box. Dream.
Make a mess. Let go of rules, roles, and rationality for a while. And allow in some light and laughter. And bad sentences, poor taste, and clashing colours. Then, see where it takes me and allow something powerful to emerge in its own good time and after a lot of trial and error.
Make it matter. Show up every day. Tell myself this is important by making time for it. Put in the time. Resist excuses. Schedule it. Start. Keep learning. Spend money on getting better. Make friends with fellow creators. Play a long game.
Get stuff done. Move past ideas into execution. Get practical and physical. Type, mould, paint, draw, cook, dig, sow, publish. End up with something created. Then send it out into the world when possible. Even if that’s just to sit on the bathroom shelf display. Or in a first drafts folder, ready for tomorrow.
Step away and wander. Take time out to let everything marinate. Walking in nature always works for me. Trust that when I return, I’ll see it differently and have more to offer. And trust that this seemingly aimless time bears fruit and is never wasted.
Be OK with unfinished. Despite #5 and its emphasis on shipping out, allow for ease and less time pressure. Not everything happens in a predetermined time frame (like, today). A lot of output needs more editing, touching up. And not everything deserves completion. Or more time. Return or move on.
Watch for ‘This Plus That’. Be awake to connections and embrace paradox. And metaphor. Across genres. Across media. The unlikely marriage. The surprising blend. The unexpected harmony. The fresh opposites. The innovative take.
Catch ideas so I can find them again. Always be ready to store the idea for later. Set up a system that goes with me on my phone. Realize that today’s thought may evaporate by tomorrow. Catch it and give it an obvious home. Then be sure to visit it. And see what friends it’s made. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist).
So, yes, sunscreen, sea levels, and climate change matter. A lot.
And solutions and change have to come. Soon. Because there’s much at stake.
But it’s also obvious that our human creativity is non-negotiable in service of that change.
It can’t be ignored or tamed.
It needs breathing space. And support.
It’s our best bet for leaving behind the past and moving ahead.
It’s the essence of who we are as humans.
So that’s why, when the muse proposed, I said yes, and now we’re in this for life.
I hope you’ll join me.
It's definitely the latter part of the day but reading this latest. writing of yours Jeanette makes me instantly want to jump up from the screen and create or sow or sew, or just sit with my wonderful imagination about how creative I will be tomorrow.
I love Being Ok with Unfinished.! How often do I rework a piece despite knowing deep down it just won't ever cut the mustard. What a waste of time.