I was recently interviewed by an Art and Soul Purpose life coach, whose area of expertise is “creativity.”
In the course of our conversation, one of the things she remarked upon was that “we are all creative”--even if we don’t know it yet. When she said that, I was reminded of the difference between children and adults in this area.
Remember when you were a kid, and you actually were creative, usually without even trying?
Maybe because I grew up as a relatively deprived middle-class kid whose parents were too cheap to buy all the latest toys (hence the free “Financial Institution” game from last week), but my friends and I could create a game out of, well, nothing.
One of our favorites was what we called “The Fainting Game.”
My two besties (identical twins) and another girl from the neighborhood would congregate in the twins’ semi-finished basement. After a random selection, “the winner” would be assigned the identity of either Davy or Mickey from the TV band The Monkees (the best band in the world at the time, that is).
Why Davy or Mickey? They were the dreamiest, of course.
Here’s how the game went down: the chosen “Monkee” would leave the room. The other three girls then went about their “normal” business (all imagined, of course): cooking dinner, corralling the kids, speaking to clients at work, having tea with the other two, and so on. In other words, we pretended to be engaged in what would be usual daily activities.
Next, the “Monkee” entered the room, acting as if lost en route to a concert, looking for some directions. A short conversation would ensue before one of the three “housewives” suddenly recognized the “celebrity” in our midst and shriek, “Oh my GOD, it’s Davy Jones!!!!”
At that point, all three of us would squeal in super-fan shock and delight, and–so overcome by our heightened emotional state at being in the same room as a MONKEE–”faint” on the spot.
Yes, faint.
But that’s not all! The final step in the game was for the “Monkee” to select the “best fainter.” Whichever girl was chosen as “the best” then became the subsequent Monkee, who then left the room, and the entire sequence repeated itself.
Ad nauseum.
Some days, especially if it was raining, we’d play that darned game for hours.
How did we keep it fresh? Sometimes the “Monkee” would ask different questions–maybe he was looking for a great pizza? Or maybe he wanted to know the best tourist attractions? Sometimes we were in England; other times in the US. Still other times, the three “regular girls” would be at home; other times at work; or perhaps even in a restaurant.
We didn’t discuss these changes; we just went with them. We let our creativity rule the game.
I’m sure you could come up with countless examples of your own creativity in childhood. After all, as most of us know, children are generally considered to be more creative than adults.
Why? One theory suggests that “Children are divergent thinkers, capable of producing a range of ideas — freely, generously, and without an inner critic taking notes.” The key phrase there is “inner critic.”
The Inner Critic, that voice in your head that chastizes, “Naw, that’s a stupid idea” or “No one has ever done that–it must be wrong.” This voice becomes louder and more insistent as we mature, absorbing more and more of society’s concept of “correct” behavior.
But kids? They haven’t absorbed that Inner Critic fully yet. And if you think of truly creative people, they don’t seem too concerned with what others think of them, either.
Could Einstein have walked around with that hair otherwise? Would Lady Gaga have worn her meat dress? Would Steve Jobs have alienated so many people without a care?
I’m not saying you should discount the feelings or beliefs of others in order to exercise your creativity–except maybe you should, at least during your creative interlude.
Not bound by an Inner Critic or any social conventions at all, dogs have an easier time expressing their own creativity. I’ve already talked about how Zoey can make a toy out of just about anything.
It’s also evident in the way she plays with her existing toys and elicits a new source of joy each time. First, it was the varied collection of howls associated with her Tuffy Bone; next, she used it as an invitation to race after her (and, thereby, snatch it from her); finally, she loves to retrieve it when I throw the thing across the room.
I see this divergent thinking when she wants to go out for a walk as well. First, she sits by the window, dolefully tracking the robins flitting from tree to tree in our yard, hoping I’ll notice and take pity.
When that doesn’t work, she moves to a more direct approach: slink over to Mum and place my head on her lap, staring up with those soulful eyes. If Mum isn’t moved by the melting stare, Zoey’s next attempt involves pushing her nose into my palm as a reminder that it’s time to step away from the computer.
The final gambit, should all else fail, is to bark obnoxiously while play-bowing and swishing her tail in the air. Usually, by then, I’m out of my seat and calling the HH to join us for the afternoon jaunt.
It will be interesting to see how the creativity is amplified–or, perhaps, subdued–with Jasper’s (new) presence added to the mix.
Are you feeling creative? Are you ready to tap into your child-like lack of Inner Critic? Are you willing to try something new? “Yes” to any of those questions puts you in the right place to exercise some creativity this coming week.
If you’re just not feeling it yet, you can always make use of some tried-and-true methods to spark those creative juices:
Spend time in nature. This one feels intuitive–but being away from technology, out in the natural world, is great to relax the brain and allow the creative part of your mind to flourish.
Allow yourself to daydream. Again, giving the mind a rest from its usual work-and-life focus can spark creativity.
Meditate. By changing your brainwave activity, you might just tap into more creativity, even if not right at that moment.
Basically, grab any excuse to give your mind permission to rest and refocus. As long as you think something other than your normal thoughts, you can bring on a creative spurt. That’s why so many of us (apparently, up to 72%) have our best thoughts in the shower.
Here’s to a week filled with creativity, new ideas–and fun.
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Follow up to last week’s challenge: Play Every Day
Well, if I learned one thing over the past week, it’s this: I used to be a hell of a lot more FUN when I was younger.
Let’s see: spontaneous drives across the province at 1:00 AM to surprise dear friends with a visit? Check. Heading out in the cover of darkness with my high school tribe to paint a graduation message on the wall? Check. (Hmm, maybe that was supposed to remain a secret. . . ? Oh, well, I’m *sure* the statute of limitations has passed. . . ). Dressing up as Sonny and Cher with the hubs for Halloween (he was Cher, I was Sonny)? Double Check.
Seriously, when did I lose my childlike playfulness? When did I stop being spontaneous and whimsical? When did my joie de vivre fizzle into a mere endurance de vivre? And how can we make that change?
This past week, I did attempt more fun activities, from a walk in the park with a friend to early breakfast at a fave restaurant to joining a new group of people for an evening soiree. I played with the dogs, of course, which is always fun. And I spent time playing in the kitchen (something I love to do), creating a new ice cream recipe (chocolate chip cookie dough–all free of sugar, dairy, grains and eggs).
All good fun, but not quite on par with sneaking into CBS studios with my buddy to mingle with the cast of The Young and the Restless (something we actually did in 1977, on a trip to California. Believe it or not, some of that same cast is still on the show!).
I’d say it looks like I need to get more serious about my fun.
How about you?
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As always, thank you for reading. If you enjoy Be the Dog, please consider a paid subscription to help support my writing. Or, share it with someone else! I’m eternally grateful either way.
Spontaneity, whimsy, joy... well I see that in your writing. You never lost it, it was just shifted.