Much like the title of celebrity, the “creative” has become an industry noun used to designate a small, special group of people from everyone else. Though everyone can look at the creative, few can touch them, and even fewer will ever be them. In this vein, creativity becomes a means to an end, a measure of status in which recognition and a God-given je ne sais quoi are determining factors. With a definition as narrow as this, it’s no wonder 61% of the global population does not think they are creative. I hear it time and again in conversations with friends: Nah, I’m not creative enough for that or Only creative people can pull that off, as if it were some inexplicable quality you either have or don’t. Hell, I’ve worked in what we call “creative” professions and have a hard time using that term, both because I feel like a pompous fool when I do and because I’ve subconsciously put it on a pedestal — a hard-wired belief that then reminds me I am not worthy until I’ve proven it to others. It’s only after I structured the thought into words that I realize how silly and dangerously limiting it is. By continuing to validate that belief and relegating something as fundamental to human existence as creativity is to the echelon of celebrity or genius, we not only deny ourselves a rainbow of opportunities to improve the quality of our lives but, more importantly, opportunities to improve the quality of our local and global communities.
Before creativity was painted as human genius, it was a process of discovery; a means through which an individual could discover their surroundings and through their curiosity, the nature of life itself. In this light, creativity blossoms from something we attain to something we awaken to, from individual achievement to collective gain. It becomes the glimmer of potential inherent in everyone and present in every moment. This, friends, is the concept of creativity we need to reclaim.
The Evolution of Creativity
The modern perception of creativity as human genius has a short history that began with the rise of humanism during the Renaissance, proliferated with the Enlightenment, and became canonized in Modernism. Before the Renaissance, the words “creativity” and “creative” didn’t exist and artistic acts, such as painting, were the fruits of having discovered nature’s hidden truths. In part, this was due to two long-held beliefs: 1) only the divine could create something from nothing (creatio ex nihilo) and 2) because nature was so perfectly created by the divine, humans could only discover their art in the context of their surroundings and under the rules of their craft. This changed in the 14th century when prominent artists and philosophers began publicly attributing their work to their ideas which, they emphasized, were found independent of nature. Once Giorgio Vasari, dubbed the first art historian, stressed the eccentricity and difference of Renaissance artists by referring to them as divine, creativity ceased to be an act of discovery and instead became a feat of human ability. Thus, the archetype of the creative genius was born.
Though many have attempted to reintegrate the notion of discovery in modern creativity research, few embody the holistic understanding of the process as succinctly and poetically as Buddhism. In the Eastern philosophy, creativity is part and parcel of dharma, making it a fundamental act of existence that is always present, becoming lost only to be rediscovered. When we connect with the present moment — be it through meditation, reflection, or the simple awareness of the way light falls along the cheek of our significant other — we employ our creative ability to see life’s beauty. Drawing inspiration from this, we find that creativity becomes a two-fold process made up by perception and discovery.
Creativity as Discovery
Despite knowing that our perceptions shape our world, it can be difficult to exercise our unique power to shape our perceptions. Oftentimes, when we perceive someone or thing, we confuse our perception with reality and believe that because it is a reality, it is therefore unchangeable. However, in the same way our reality constantly changes, so too do our perceptions. For an example, look no further than the Me Too movement. Before Me Too, sexual harassment in the workplace was standard practice. By reshaping our perception of right and wrong, acceptable and not, we have created — or rather, discovered — a safe space in which women and men can share their experiences and influence change. Though no physical thing was created, creativity still took place and wasn’t the achievement of one person, but the result of many coming together as one. This is creativity at the macro level, but utilizing this practice on the micro level — that is, in our daily lives — will guide us towards discovering new facets of ourselves and our habits that will allow us to flourish.
Once we’ve acknowledged the fluidity of our perceptions, we become more receptive to discovering new ways of being and doing that benefit us in the present and future. Let’s use tying one’s shoes as an example. It’s a mundane act. One learned as a child that ossifies into muscle memory. Much like raising a glass of water to my mouth to drink, I no longer think about how I’m going to tie my shoes — I just do it. Now, imagine if every time we bent down to tie our shoes, we saw it as an opportunity to discover a new way of tying them. Maybe there’s a faster way of doing this, we think. Or a way that makes the bunny ears of equal and compact size. Or a different knot to use altogether. There are probably a million ways to tie our shoes that are more creative than the technique we do now. But we’ll never know them if we don’t allow ourselves to see those possibilities, so we first grant ourselves permission to see potential and then discover different ways to actualize that potential. This is something we are all capable of and requires no talent or genius — only a curious mind and an awakened eye.
Discovery as Daily Practice
How do we reclaim this practice of discovery as a form of creativity in our daily lives? While there is no one-size-fits-all solution (that’s for you to discover), I’ve listed three practices that are helping me shift my personal definition of creativity from social construct to existential right.
Meditation: I know. You’re probably tired of hearing that word and if you aren’t, then you either avoid the checkout stands or are an avid meditator. Whatever camp you fall in, the hype around meditation is valid and backed by science. When I meditate regularly, I find it does two things for my creativity: 1) I am able to more easily discern false notions of creativity from the truth which 2) allows me space to discover a perception that serves the present moment and, therefore, my creativity.
Do the Same Thing, But Differently: I’m sure you’ve tried this before, but clasp your hands together and notice which thumb is on top. Now undo them and reclasp, this time with the opposite thumb on top. Feels weird, right? But only because we perceive it as so. Once we evolve our perception of what weird feels like, we find that we’ve discovered a new way to clasp our hands and, suddenly, the act of doing so becomes a creative one. It’s that simple and because it is so simple, it becomes difficult for us to grasp. If you’re looking for an immediate way to tap into your creativity, try doing the same thing you’ve always done, but differently. Change the way you cook your meals or speak with your loved ones. The next time you go for a walk, swap the foot that normally steps first with the other. It will feel uncomfortable, but discomfort is part of the creative process.
Do the Same Thing in the Same Way, But Slowly: Like, really slowly. A couple of months ago, I tried a slow yoga routine at home. In slow yoga, you do the same poses except at a fraction of your normal speed. You’re moving so slow you can practically hear each muscle working. While difficult, so much more difficult than I expected, moving intentionally slow was a revelation. Sensations I hadn’t before experienced were opening themselves to me like flowers in the morning sun. Cracks along my spine, the rotation of my muscles — all of the small details I usually gloss over in my attempt to hit a pose became the experience itself. Just like that — sparked by something as simple as moving slowly — I discovered new aspects of old poses I would have otherwise missed. It was as if I was practicing for the first time. Try it the next time you wash your face or brush your teeth. Slow down and pay attention to the way the grooves of your fingers feel against your skin, the way your toothbrush’s bristles sound against the smooth porcelain exterior of your teeth. By celebrating the details of your awareness, you awaken your creative ability to transform the mundane into the extraordinary.
Here’s an extra practice that is just as, if not the most, important: gratitude.Gratitude is crucial to creativity as it allows perception and discovery to take place. If we’re not grateful for our body and mind, for the world we live in and people we are surrounded by, we’re sure as hell not going to be open to discovering their beauty. But if we cultivate gratitude for our ability to perceive, change, and create, the process of discovery flows naturally to us. On mornings when I wake up in a negative mental state, gratitude is the last feeling I am able to conjure, let alone conceive of. Everything feels like a burden, even my breath. There is nothing, I tell myself. Least of all beauty. But if I were to change that perception and express gratitude for even the simplest of things, like seeing the sun or waking up to a roof over my head, everything else would become a lot easier, from recognizing limiting thoughts to staying in the present moment. If you’re not ready for meditation and think the other three suggestions are a crock of shit, at the very least consider gratitude. It is in and of itself a form of creativity and, like it, is always present, waiting to be discovered.
Feature image by Cody Davis