Creativity

This post sat in draft form in a dusty corner of my blog.  I just pulled it out of hiding, gave it a quick dusting and so , here 'tis

It occurs to me that posting quotes about creativity is kind of hollow without a statement of my own thoughts and musings about the subject.I once read a statement from some unknown author that said,"Creativity is one of the means by which humans liberate themselves from the fetters, not only of their conditioned responses, but also from their usual choices.  However, creativity is not simply originality and unlimited freedom.  There is much more to it than that.  It also imposes restrictions.  While it uses methods other than those of ordinary thinking, it must not be in disagreement with ordinary thinking - or rather it must be something that sooner or later ordinary thinking will understand , accept and appreciate.  Otherwise the results will be bizarre, not creative."

All of that got me thinking, so I added my own thoughts, as follows.

Creativity is a way of life. It is deep within whatever it is that makes you GO!  It is far from an automatic process that can be monitored at random, but it is omnipresent and continuously functioning. It doesn't demand inspiration and is not necessarily triggered by unique circumstances.  Every moment of every day, whether exhilarating or mundane, stimulates the creative process.
The peaks of excitement in a lifetime should not have any different impact on creative activity than the lowest doldrums you reach.  Your own miraculous existence is the seat of your creativity.  Harness it!

Creativity Quotes

He ain't wrong, he's just different and his pride won't let him do things to make you think he's right.

(Willy Nelson "Momma, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys)

I'd rather burn out than rust!

(me)

Creativity Quotes

This is the first of many quotes I will post on the topic of creativity.  Some will be forthright,some subtle and some downright obtuse, but all will address the topic from many vantage points.  ENJOY!

• Happiness and beauty are the by-products.  Folly is the direct pursuit of happiness and beauty.
  
  G.B. Shaw

Work in Progress

I am working on a novel set in Ireland in the 1600's. It begins in a town close by the castle of the Prince of Breffni.  The castle today is known as Parke's Castle and it sits on the shore of Lough Gill between counties Sligo and Leitrim. My fictitious family is on the threshold of feeling the impact of Oliver Cromwell's invasion of Ireland and all that follows......Stay tuned.

FAR

AWARENESS

Writing based on observations of ordinary people going through their typical day of life raised my awareness of just how many people walk around seeming totally unaware of what's going on around them.  I felt privileged that my awareness provided me with a front row seat to the street theater that happens every day in a big city.  Drama that unfolded for me on my lunch hour was transparent to others as they moved in lock step back to their jobs

FAR

AWARENESS

8/13/71

Relating only to what’s in front of their noses

The real essence of life passes by, flowing freely

And it can never be touched without reaching

Compressed in their own private niche of existence

Like a race horse, just seeing the track ahead

Wearing blinders to keep the mind focused on nothing

Like lying face down on the floor of a forest

Aware of the mosses, grub worms and leaf mold

The towering redwoods above – unnoticed

Forging ahead to your own Armageddon

Pause for a moment – reflect on life’s rhythm

Turn around – the whole world is right there behind you.

Greyhound Travelers

People watching took me to places where people assemble.  From the library to the bus stops, to park benches and the bus station. Quiet observation provided witnessing many unfolding dramas.  The following provides a few.

FAR

GREYHOUND TRAVELERS

3/2/70

Your face shows youth and experience

Your hair is long and well groomed

The baby in your arms shows that you’ve carried few

A cardboard box tied with string goes as your baggage

Where to little mother?

Are you running from?

Going to?

Running with?

Going back?

Smile sad eyes

You’re young

You’ll bounce back

You will find it

Or lose it

You’ll have joy

Soldier

Drafted hick

Strictly country

Junkie

Well dressed

Hurtin’ bad

Bummin’ bread

Soldier

Don’t understand

Confused

But compassionate

Scared

But unselfish

Shrugging

Pocket searching

Comes up empty

Junkie

Grabs his sleeve

Country sweats

His bus is called

Escape

Lonesome Marine

Home with a buddy

Your eyes long for

Another time

Another place

A place of your own

To go to

But where?

When?

Maybe never

A friendly smile

From your buddy’s girl

They’ll show you a good time

Home cooked meals

A date with her girl friend

They’ll all try

To make you happy.

Some how

They will fail

Winos

Working in any large city and even small towns, one is frequently confronted by panhandlers. Many who are down on their luck turn for solace to alcohol.  The following is based on many such confrontations with desperate, albeit creative panhandlers.

WINOS

12/29/69

Winos should be authors

For the stories they invent

Are designed to touch the hearts of prosperous men

Their eloquence on tough luck

Is unmatched in all the world

And they’ll tell their sad story when ‘ere they can

They’ll tell you they need only

Eight more cents to buy a meal

As you reach in your pocket you know damn well

That as soon as you touch their dirty palm

With a little piece of change

They’ll go and blow it all on muscatel

They’ll ask you for direction

To a local cheap hotel

And ask for a little help to buy a bed

They’ll tell you how their pride

Is crushed to have to beg

And their wine soaked breath's enough to knock you dead

They’ll tell you of a family

Left starving in the hills

While they hitched a ride to town to find a job

Through tearful eyes they’ll tell you

That work is hard to find

And they’ll ask you for some money with a sob

Sometimes with open honesty

They’ll meet you on the street

Sayin’, “Buddy would you be a pal of mine?”

I’m down on my luck

Could you spare a little change

To help a drunk like me to buy some wine?

You’ll hear a hundred stories

From a hundred different smokes

And sad to say that most are probably true

They’ll touch your heart for sympathy

When they tell their woeful tales

If someone’s going to help, it must be you

Winos should be authors

For if they had the will to write

They could tell the whole world about their pain

If they could put their tragedy

In poetry or prose

Instead of muscatel, they’d drink champagne.

FAR