Do you think that people, who are not creative or imaginative, lead less-exciting lives? Do you think that they fail to see the details? The humor? The sadness of life?
Before we get into that, what makes a person creative? Is there a creative gene that some people are born with, or does everyone start out the same? I know that some people are constantly stimulated in creative environments, while others aren’t. For example, I think that my parents did a really good job of always making sure that Brother and I were surrounded by creativity. We grew up exposed to art, books, music, and imagination. I started to read at age four and I haven’t slowed down. There was always music in my house. And not just the run-of-the-mill Top 40, either. My parents exposed us to so many different styles. We listened to Mexican music, Hawaiian music, jazz, big band, and old school, the Beatles…everything! I was probably the only three-year-old in my neighborhood to sing all the words to Sir Duke by Stevie Wonder (I still love that song!).
Brother and I weren’t plopped in front of the television a lot, either. We were always outside playing. We would play “school” in the garage, or “house” in the backyard. We didn’t have a lot of toys or fancy bikes, but we had good imaginations. We were always setting up stands on the corner to sell something.
Brother was the best with duct tape and rope. If he had a little of each, he would be busy for hours! One afternoon, my dad and I were sitting in our living room. We could hear my brother out front, patiently calling “Daaaad” every couple of minutes. There was nothing panicked or extreme about the way he was calling him. Finally, after about 10 minutes of trying to tune him out, my dad gets up and looks out the window. And breaks into hysterical laughter. Apparently Brother decided he was going to practice “climbing” on our large tree in the front yard. He rigged up a “pulley” system and proceeded to pull himself up…just far enough that his toes were about 2 inches off the ground and he was swinging back and forth. So of course we had to leave him hanging there for a bit while we called everyone over to come and look. Poor kid.
But I digress. I am sure that everyone has some sort of crazy story like that. I am sure that every kid had great adventures fueled by their creativity and imagination. But at what point do some people stop using their creativity and imagination? I know that in this day and age, maturity goes a long way towards being accepted by your “peers”. But if my peers are not creative and fun, do I really want them as my peers?
How do these people pass the time and amuse themselves while they are waiting for the doctor? Or while using the Elliptical machine at the gym? Or anywhere! I am always making up stories about the people around me. LB and I could sit for hours and people watch and tell their stories. We crack ourselves up! We have different voices for people, different scenarios, etc. We can’t explain this to everyone, though. Some of our friends think we are weird, or, that dreaded word again, immature.
I know that different people react to art, theater, literature and music in different ways. For example, art makes me cry. Not because it makes me sad, but because it is so overwhelming and I am in awe. The first time I saw a Van Gogh in person, I stood in front of it for an hour, with tears running down my cheeks. I couldn’t get over the color, the texture. I had so many questions running through my head, I was mesmerized. When I went to the Guggenheim in Venice, it was the same way. If you’ve never been there, the museum is actually Peggy Guggenheim’s house that has been converted into an art museum. I kept thinking to myself “She walked barefoot down this hall…she had drinks with friends in this room…” It was so overwhelming!
When I tell those stories to some of my friends, they look at me like I have lost my marbles. Have I? Maybe. But I feel bad for them. How sad to see everything in a literal sense, black and white. How sad to put limits on the way you express yourself. How sad to look at a painting and only see a picture. Or to read a book and only think it was a nice story.
That is why I appreciate my Blogging friends so much. I know that if I find something silly or funny, one of you is bound to laugh, too! I know that if I talk about my fascination with a book or a building or a person, you will understand. You may not understand why, but you will understand how.
The older I get, the more I realize that some people are forced to put a cap on their imagination or creativity in the name of maturity. For the record, I refuse to do that. If that makes me immature, then so be it. But I like my imagination. I like to make up stories. I like to laugh and have fun. I hope you all choose the same.
