A River of Creativity

On Creativity

I used to imagine that the source of my creativity was like a well.

I believed that somewhere deep inside that well lived a finite resource: a capacity to create beautiful things. What I understand today as being divine was once just ordinary and commonplace. For children, creativity is the norm.

When I was young, in search of this magical force, I’d gather a bucket and string to lower myself into the unknown. During these trips, I held no expectation of what I might find. Instead, I was led by curiosity. Operating in pure discovery mode. This Journey down into myself invited lighthearted opportunities to play. There was nothing serious or intellectual about it; I had no purpose or end goal.

I explored my creativity simply because I enjoyed doing so.

Experiencing my creativity went beyond words or comprehension. Losing myself in time and space for hours that felt to me like seconds. I’d visit other galaxies, build castles and countries, invent new languages. And sometimes, upon returning home, I’d have something tangible to show for it: a drawing, a new game, or an understanding of the world rooted outside the bounds of science or logic.

When I was young, despite its mystical nature, I always knew where to find my creativity. In any moment upon seeking communion with it, there it was again! We were on good working terms with one another.

At the bottom of my creative well, magic was always abundant and easy to access.

But as I grew up, trips down that well became fewer and further between. The thought of exploring its uncharted depths began to scare me. Increasingly, I shied away from opportunities to sink deeper into the creative abys.

Perhaps, I worried that my bucket might one day scrape the bottom and come back up empty. Or maybe, I feared discovering something new and exciting, only to have my enthusiasm crushed by someone I loved. Alternatively, my fear may have come from the possibility that I’d fall into the well and get lost. I guess I might have been scared that losing myself in creative pursuit might destroy the drive and ambition that I thought made me lovable.

The longer I stayed away, the more dangerous it seemed to become. In my mind, the hands of time had unwound the structural stability that I once knew to be safe. Over the mouth of that well, vines and cobwebs slowly took hold, seemingly preventing me from slipping away into its depths. Eventually, terrified of what might be growing inside, I boarded up that well with signs that read “Trespassers Will be Shot” and “Beware of Dog.”

No matter the reason, at some point along the journey of my life, I stopped investigated that well.

I convinced myself that I just wasn’t a creative person.

I reasoned that while the wells of others contained plenty of magic, my hiatus from creative exploration had led to mine becoming a dry, derelict, lifeless hole. I relegated myself to the creative sidelines and resigned to satisfying myself through consuming the creativity of others.

Doing so came at a cost.

It triggered judgment and disdain, both of myself and of others. I’d unwittingly become an armchair critic, too scared of my own creativity to pursue it. I thought I’d been destined to be a bystander in the audience for the rest of my days.

Fortunately, I was wrong. I now understand the source of creativity differently.

It isn’t actually like a well at all. Instead, it’s like a river.

Throughout our lives, from birth to death, there exists a raging, racing river of creativity that courses constantly through each of us. The source of this creativity has no bottom nor end. Instead, it’s infinite and immeasurable.

Drawing from the environment around us—the thawing snow-capped mountains in the distance and the gushing tears of grey clouds above—our creative source is constantly being replenished. In some seasons, we may feel that its current runs stronger than in others. But deep inside each of us, there is always a trickle of inspiration to draw from. Steadily, and at times invisibly, it forges its way through the peaks and valleys of the world inside of us.

On some days, that river may seem to be blocked, as if a dam has been erected upstream.

And maybe, that is true.

Fortunately, if it is, that dam itself is also an unintentional act of our own creativity, as we are each the creators of our own unique experience of this world. In the same way that it was built, that block can be smashed to pieces and washed away in any moment.

But only if that is what we choose to create.

We are all simply a flow of experience. That experience, roaring through us, is the place from where our creativity is born. Influenced by our surroundings, we take in the outside world and filter it down into ourselves through our senses. The feelings and intuition evoked by this process transcend words. It’s from these languageless feelings smoldering deep inside of us that our creative acts emerge.

We are not the radio playing the music.

Instead, we are the music itself: constantly moving, always evolving, and never twice the exact same. Sometimes, that music is loud and upbeat. Other times, it’s sad and slow-paced. But so long as we are alive, the music plays on, the river of our experience flows, and somewhere beyond the reach of our intellect, our creativity is stirring.

Creativity is made manifest by our personalities. It sits at the intersection of the boundless flood of thoughts and emotions running through us in any given moment, and in the actions we take in response. We exist as created beings, living in a creative world, experiencing a life which itself is a creation of our own making.

As human, creativity is our birth rite: it’s for everyone, and it’s in all of us. We are each creativity personified: the biproducts of an unfathomable number of creative acts.

That isn’t to say that reacquainting ourselves with our creativity won’t involve confrontations with fear. Quite the opposite, in fact. The ultimate act of creativity may simply be to feel the fear bubbling up inside of us, and to choose to act regardless of its gravitational pull. If we hope to create a life that we’ve previously been too scared to live, acts of courage might be the most important display of creativity imaginable.

Thankfully, the source of our creativity isn’t a well.

It has no bottom. Nor is there an end to it. It doesn’t contain a finite resource. And there is no potential for it to collapse in on us if we choose to explore it.

Instead, it’s always there to be investigated, if we can muster up the courage to do so. Because the source of our creativity is like a river: it runs constantly, effortlessly through each of us.

As my understanding of creativity has evolved, so too have the questions I ask myself about its role in my life. There is no longer any doubt in my mind that you nor I are creative beings.

Instead, I wonder, what will we chose to create?