Many people say, “I’m not creative,” as if creativity were a rare trait gifted to a blessed few.
But there is no such thing as creative and uncreative people. Creativity is not something you are, and it’s not something you can do. It certainly isn’t a thing you can demand or make demands of.
Our only choice is to allow creativity to happen—or not. Because creativity really isn’t up to us at all. Creativity is a particular expression of Creation (capital “C”); it is continuously unfolding everywhere all at once, and we have an unending invitation to participate in it for as long as we breathe.
Creation simply is. We are we born into it. It happens all around us. When we bear witness to it, we realize that Creation also happens through us as we go about our lives. And we sense creativity taking place—and ourselves as “creative”—when Creation happens not just through us but as us.
That’s very exciting news indeed! To be truly creative, all we need to do is be more of who we are.
But wait: what does that mean? How can we be more of who we are? Who are you, really? Who am I?
We might arrogantly claim, “I know who I am!” But do you really? Do I?
If we already know who we are, we cut off the possibility of who we might be. All growth stops as life becomes repeatable patterns of knowing and doing. Boredom settles in and nothing new emerges.
Thus, the only honest answer to the question, “Who am I?” and “Who are you?” is to humbly admit, “We don’t know.”
From that place, we might become curious. We might decide that we aim to find out who you are and who I am. Then we might go on an adventure to see if we can find some answers to our questions.
Along the way, new questions might emerge, such as, “Why are we here?” and “What more is there?” If we’re playful about it, we might find the process of discovering you, me and the reality around us delightful.
As we embark on this process of discovery together, we might find aspects of ourselves that are particularly beautiful and meaningful. We also might uncover things that are dark and terrifying, but that can give us an opportunity to be courageous—which is beautiful.
Thus beauty—or more accurately, “the beautiful”—might be our guide not only to creativity, but to Creation itself. Aristotle used “the beautiful” (to kalon) to describe the true source of deep happiness, in contrast to things that are chosen because they are advantageous or pleasant.
In speaking of the beautiful, Aristotle means much more than what might be aesthetically pleasing. Aesthetics is a part of beauty, but it’s beautiful actions that are the mark of the truly creative life.
When someone says to you,”that was a beautiful thing you did,” they might be describing a work of charity, a song you sang, or witnessing you step up to defend the innocent with grace and courage. Aristotle called such actions the highest form of good “from which nothing is sought beyond…since performing actions that are beautiful…are chosen for their own sake” (Nichomachean Ethics 1176b 8-9).
That’s creativity: discovering who we are, what Creation is, why we are here, and what more there might be. It is the most beautiful thing in the world and chosen for its own sake, unlocking the deepest sense of peace and joy.
It’s only when we stop asking questions about who we are that creativity stops. Not because Creation has stopped, but because we neglected our playful, curious participation with it.
As infants and young children, we get this implicitly. For kids, creativity as a process of discovery is as natural as breathing. And children are the most beautiful beings in all of humanity.
Perhaps that’s why Christ suggested that to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, we must be like children. He was imploring us to explore Creation with a sense of adventure and curiosity. As we discover life and the universe, we begin a lifelong process of getting to know ourselves—unless and until we decide that there’s nothing more to know.
The book of Genesis tells us that when God created the heavens and the earth, everything was “without form, and void.” All was a vast, empty darkness devoid of any meaning. So what does God do? He says: “Let there be light.”
Notice the very first word God speaks? “Let.” He didn’t demand for there to be light. Nor did He invent light. He let light happen. He allowed for there to be light.
Once God allows the light, He does two things: He sees the light, and then He calls it good. In other words, He witnesses the light and proclaims the good about what He has allowed to be.
Let. See. Proclaim the good.
Created in His image and likeness, we have the opportunity to do the same thing: to let there be light—or not.
If we do not allow the light of Creation to move through us, life is formless, void, and empty of meaning. To be truly creative, then, all we need to do is surrender to Creation’s will and let there be light, through us and as us.
“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 5:16-17 NIV).