At the Heart of Creativity
Why is creativity so nourishing? Why on a busy trip does an hour with watercolors settle my daughter’s nervous system? Why do ten minutes of journaling launch my day well? How did a simple circle dance, repeated over a weekend, deepen trust and add bounce to the steps of retreat participants? On a walk through a rough part of town, why did the brightly colored mural set me at ease? Why do trauma therapists prescribe writing and grief counselors lead painting and hospice workers play music? Why do these butterfly poles popping up around my neighborhood give me more hope in the face of our president’s destructive cruelty than any Facebook meme?
Among my many theories, one seems especially relevant: Creativity, in its many forms, helps us come more alive. It reveals our essential selfhood. It offers purpose and meaning. I think we are created to create, so when we make something or experience what others have made (be it art or a family or home or business or friendship), we align ourselves with the spirit of creation. We generate rather than react. We bring heart and body into dialogue with mind. We engage in a practice that has an awful lot in common with spiritual practice because it demands trust, vulnerability, effort, gratitude, presence, and a profound willingness to change.
Black children’s author June Jordan writes, “I believe the creative spirit is nothing less than love made manifest.” When writing students ask me if their projects are worthwhile, I want to shout “YES!” and banish the myriad voices chanting otherwise. Yes, creativity is inherently valuable. Despite what artistic standards and a market economy teach, value isn’t in the product. Value emerges from the practice of creating and the practice of relating to the product. We generate value through the practice.
By allowing the creative spirit into our lives, we also welcome the creative spirit onto a planet desperate for love made manifest. This is joyful work with a secret (and I believe lasting) power.
—Elizabeth Jarrett Andrew
