Every once in a while you come across a talk or an article that is vitally instrumental in readjusting your perspective with regards to your own creative process and all of its dawdling, roadblocks, dry spells, dead-ends, and fortunate accidents. This past week’s reading, The Eureka Hunt, by Jonah Lehrer in conjunction with a recent podcast I’d seen by bestselling author, Elizabeth Gilbert, prompted more than a few excited phone calls and a major sigh of relief.
I’m a bit of a planner and despite my usually content-to-wander nature; I want nothing less than to hit the ground running every morning completely sure of my purpose and direction. I have rarely, if ever even paused to consider, much less seek to understand or respect, my own process in creating insightful work.
First there was the impasse…or several of them. While I had always appreciated the artistic abilities of others, I suffered from an acute lack of experience and confidence in my own abilities. I was learning a new way to look at the world around me and a language with which to analyze and describe it though I could never adequately seem to utilize any of those developing skills to my own standards.
What I both appreciated and abhorred was the constant state of production I felt I had entered into when I first came to college. Stretched thinly between studios and upper division liberal arts classes I was unprepared to take as a first year, I struggled with even the most basic creative problem solving. I would perch myself on a stool and observe the “tactics and strategies” of friends I admired, talking desperately in an attempt to focus my own thoughts. I was sure that I would arrive at the perfect solution to each puzzle if only I could direct my attention. I was too inexperienced—too stressed—too tired to come up with the answers I sought.
The copious amounts of coffee I consumed stirred constant fluttering of panic in my chest and I became less organized—more frazzled than I ever had been before. I was frantic to remember my schedule, assignments, obligations, and commitments. It began to become more than a constant hum in my chest—I began to lose friendships over my inability to focus. I went to the doctor in hopes of a little blue slip that would enable me to channel my thoughts in whatever direction I wanted. The diagnosis: Attention Deficit Disorder. I left clutching the little blue slip feeling oddly relieved that yes! I was right! My brain did not work like everyone else’s.
I never filled that prescription.
It sat on my dresser until I threw it away a month ago. What happened after I left the office that day was that I no longer felt responsible for all the gaps in attention. I learned to relax and because I recognized that my mind tended to wander, I learned to accept it and ground myself once in a while. Letting go of the anxiety did not happen over night but it did improve and I began to have a few creative “aha” moments of my own.
As I continue to recognize and appreciate occasional moments of certainty, I’m beginning to understand and respect that that there is value in being able to wander. I’m learning that that while “we must concentrate… we must concentrate on letting the mind wander” to allow our brains to “make a set of distant and unprecedented connections” on the path of creative problem solving. While I still might not find enjoyment in the dawdling, roadblocks, dry spells, occasional dead-ends, I have found beauty in uncertainty and the infinite possibilities of what is, what might be, and what lies ahead.
I highly recommend investigating
www.ted.com, a website devoted to sharing the experiences, thoughts, and anticdotes from today's leading intellectuals (scientific and creative alike!) In particular, I appreciated a talk given by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of the best selling memoir
Eat Pray Love. It's titled "
Genius and Why We Kill It". Also, "The Eureka Hunt", an article by Jonah Lehrer absolutely change the way you think about your approach to creative success. Enjoy!
