and so, i thought, what is creativity?
and what is the gift i have, and how shall i call it?
thus today i tied the green cloth of thinking upon my brow (mainly because it keeps my hair out of the eyes and my ears warm) and set to typing.
probably the whole thing is this simple: when i think of creativity, i think of spontaneity, the ex nihilo, the impulsive action, the unpredictable moment, the sudden revelation.
but all i have, is the gift for noticing what i see, and naming it. i am unable either to explain what i name, or change it. i have the compulsion to protocol and catalogue almost everything i come in close contact with. and there is hardly anything that upsets me more than unpredictable departures from communication protocols (those that do not have a protocol of their own) – i do not understand sudden impulses and they make me uneasy.
and then there is the poetry thing. yes, i write poetry. because i always forget my camera. and it is the same – poetry, actually, follows strict rules, much stricter than any other form of art. because it is the rules that make poetry poetry. so i would say- poetry equals acute observation plus naming skills plus strict rules of composition. what exactly is creative about that?
the only thing that i do treasure in the creativity definition above, every moment of it, is the sudden revelation – of names, of aspects, of angles. because i know it is the touch of my beloved. because thus i live the presence of god. thus i see into the world through his love.
so, according to my definitions, i am not creative. what may cause this illusion, is that i use slightly different protocols of communication, and know the names of things. but the things themselves, and the entities, people, have existed before they were noticed, and will go on existing long after i am gone – i did nothing to bring them about, it was someone else, you know.
probably, this classifies me as nerd or a geek, or both. but i do not mind, really.