If I was offered a creativity pill which would make me automatically
and fabulously creative (inventive, athletic, or brainy), I’d contemplate
taking that pill for five seconds. During those five seconds I’d fantasize
about the praise I’d receive for being the world’s best artist/writer (inventor,
ping pong player, genius). But after that brief reverie reality would set in.
Such a pill would NOT garner praise; people would say, “He’s no great shakes;
he just took a pill.”
Furthermore, such a pill would rob me of the joy of
focus. When I’m creating I’m hyper-focused and alert to ways to mold my
creation into the perfect image I've got in my head. I collect drawings, jokes,
anecdotes, quotes, and ideas that I believe will improve my creation. It’s fun!
And finally, it’s not necessarily the finished product that drives creativity.
It’s the process. It’s the evolution. It’s the improvement. That pill would
enable me to create a perfect work of art (science, physical legerdemain, or
theorem) immediately. Where’s the fun in that?
Paradoxically, inner demons sabotage my creative urge. The
delirium of joy I experience when creating is buggered by delay, stalling,
postponement, avoidance, and distraction. The demons responsible for this are
1) Kierkegaard’s “purity of heart is to will one thing.” My brain wills one
hundred things and sustained focus is difficult.
2) Darwin’s “survival of
the fittest.” Random mutations (new ideas) alter the evolution of my creation
and the vestigial organs (old ideas) put up a terrible fuss.
3) Heisenberg’s
“uncertainty principle.” I get flooded with energies that pop in and out of
existence and choosing which wave/particle to nab is somewhat arbitrary. I
suffer from paralysis of analysis.
And yet, the creative urge propels me. Twenty years ago who
would have dreamed of today’s new and exciting creations? Today is the day to
write/draw/create that thing undreamed of by people twenty years hence.
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