The power of creativity is beyond words. When a watercolorist places a brush to paper, an oil painter to canvas, a sculptor’s fingers touch clay, a pianist touches keys; when a boat maker sands, a flutist mouth the reed, a violinist sets her bow to string, or a writer lets his mind wander, the world vanishes.
We are in the thick of a serious season, of course – one in which even creative souls might pause to note, laying aside their brush, wheel, sandpaper, flute, violin, or pen – time to vote. But the opposite is also true, and could be you, as it is me. Much as the times make a heartache, we must create.
To some, this will sound like sacrilege, turning off 24-hour news, another podcast, the blue screen, imagining the world could go on without our monitoring it, minute by minute, tragedy by tragedy.
But new to me, as it may be to you, every time I try this, I find it true: The world does not need us, does not stop without our tremulous eyes, occasional outbursts, more common inbursts, outrage at new worsts. It goes on just as well without us, and as often we do without it, at least from where I sit.
So, what about this creativity thing? When we create, we consciously or unconsciously depart all the distractions of the world’s senselessness, things which roil us and lie beyond our power to correct – and in some rather-hard-to-explain-way, we rediscover ourselves, we rewire, reconnect.
If this sounds too soft and squishy for those of us who also split wood, use saws and hammers, and like to think we are beyond the creative pull, my discovery is …not really. Creativity is an everyone thing.
Creativity can be building something, fixing something, creatively rethinking, redesigning, and then miraculously making what we imagined; it can be reorganizing chairs, tables, books, or cooking, replacing pictures on a wall, down a hall, painting the room, buffing the floor, turning old into more.
Of course, it can be taking out the old slide whistle, harmonica, recorder, Jewish harp, or fiddle, maybe plinking on dusty keys, or maybe finishing an old project, rock wall, carving, knitting, crocheting, expanding a deck, reorienting a garden, on the lighter side, making a castle of sand, fort of snow, bringing whimsy wherever you go.
In a formal sense, it might be visiting a craft store, recalling colored beads on a string, putting pencil to paper, ornaments made for Christmas, eggs colored at Easter, painting a birdhouse, or tray for breakfast in bed, assembling a mobile or model, baking a holiday specialty, crazy bread, cake, or candy. It is about remembering how to be a child, at peace with originality, risk, humble, and handy.
Being creative can mean arranging flowers, varnishing old furniture, caning a rocker, using pastels or acrylics to give flowers drawn some color, penning a poem, and stacking wood in some poetic way. You think I am kidding, but I have seen wood piles in the shape of hearts, animals, fish, and faces.
In short, whenever we stop, look out a window, think about doing something creative, take the first step toward it, and begin to do it, we escape the often deadening, repetitive, burdening if not boring replay of much we already know, to explore something new, something we do not know.
What is more, the minute you put brush to paper, the very second you do it, you are elsewhere, and with each brush stroke, pencil, pen, pastel, or ink line, each exploration, experiment, a risk taken on some design is freeing, opens a door, leaves behind a world that is no more.
Family and friends have done this all their lives, and so – from afar – I have watched in utter wonder as they sketch, paint, silkscreen, admire the beauty in rocks, teach the art of art, help others learn to loosen up, disengage from the stress, and just draw – in awe.
Others tickle the ivories, pick up a trumpet, smile playing something on an instrument I could never dream of playing, build something silly from stones, doodle, and noodle and smile, their face light.
To me, this is an oft-missed part of life, one that brings home the bacon, lifts the heart, helps us sleep better, smile more, laugh at ourselves, and creates a new start. Creativity is a gift we all have, in one form or another, at the stove, canvas, keys, what you please.
Creativity is that welcome break from tension and monotony, an instant escape from the serious, an experiment with what is not, and a way to have a happy night, which is why I write. That said, the power of creativity is beyond words, can mend a soul, lighten a life, absorb our full attention, and banish strife. It can do this for anyone because creativity is God’s gift to us all, a simple thing worth recalling.
Robert Charles is a former Assistant Secretary of State under Colin Powell, former Reagan and Bush 41 White House staffer, attorney, and naval intelligence officer (USNR). He wrote “Narcotics and Terrorism” (2003), “Eagles and Evergreens” (2018), and is National Spokesman for AMAC.
