Where do creative ideas come from?

I began asking this question in college while reading the English poets. Traherne, Blake, and Wordsworth found their inspiration looking back on childhood. Donne was inspired by love, Milton by a passionate commitment to his ideals. Shakespeare’s characters danced out of his imagination to grace the London stage.

But where did their creative ideas come from? As Shakespeare wrote in A Midsummer Night’s Dream:

The poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven,
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
(V.i. 12-17)
Over the years, from my own experience and that of others, I’ve found that creativity requires a clear channel, a sense of openness, and faith in the larger process.

Creativity can be blocked by ego. Whether we become too full of ourselves or surrender to incessant worry, inferiority and self-doubt, either way we focus solely on ourselves, leaving no room for creative insight.

Creativity can also be thwarted by distractions. As Coleridge was writing “Kubla Khan,” he was interrupted by a knock on the door from a person from Porlock. When he returned to his desk, his inspiration had fled. The poem remains unfinished, leaving only mysterious glimmers of “caverns measureless to man.”

Creativity can be cultivated by meditating, by reflecting on the patterns of nature, by taking time to embrace whatever brings you joy.

Creativity brings vision and the courage to pursue new possibilities. I grew up hearing John and Robert Kennedy say, “Most people look at things the way they are and ask ‘Why?’ I dream of things that never were and say, ‘Why not?’”

Now, more than ever, our world needs creativity—yours and mine. To transcend today’s monumental challenges, we must each cultivate our creativity to offer new visions of possibility to this beautiful, troubled planet we call home.

What is one thing you can do to cultivate your creativity today?

Diane

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Trust the Process

A few years ago, I wrote a book, Inner Gardening: A Seasonal Path to Inner Peace.

Gardening has long been associated with spiritual practice. Medieval monasteries had their cloister gardens, green chapels of contemplation and renewal. Right now, I’m looking out my study window at my own garden, grateful for the sunlight-shadow patterns through the wisteria vines, the lemon and laurel trees, for what the poet Andrew Marvell called “a green thought in a green shade.”

Gardening teaches vital lessons: to be patient, to have faith in the eternal creative process. Years ago, my friend Pat, a gifted fiction writer, had a thriving garden on the balcony of her West Hollywood apartment–pots of herbs, lettuce, tomatoes, bell peppers, and onions. But when she planted an avocado seed in a pot, she grew impatient.

Weeks went by. Nothing. One day in frustration she dug up the seed to see what was happening. Then she found that beneath the surface the seed had germinated; a young seedling was ready to emerge. An important lesson–she told me her impatience had killed the plant.

In writing, as in gardening, a lot goes on beneath the surface. Creativity takes time. We cannot rush the process. A few weeks ago, I planted Kentucky wonder beans and set up teepees of six-foot wooden poles. For days, nothing. Then one morning a few seedlings broke ground, raising their tiny heads, reaching for the sky. This week their delicate vines have begun climbing up the poles. Finding their way by their own intelligence, they grow higher each day, spiraling around and around, ever upward. In time they will flower and bear fruit, all part of the creative process that includes you and me, our writing and our lives.

A key to creativity is faith in the larger process. What seeds are you planting now? What dreams are you cultivating in this season of your life?