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Lost and Found: Rediscovering Creativity’s Hidden Chamber

I’ve always considered myself a creative person, and that conclusion is rooted in my lifelong passion for diverse creative projects. Looking back, these memories fill me with immense joy.

I recall my early days, crafting clothes and accessories for my dolls, and even producing music clips and movies. I’d put on plays for family, friends, and sometimes, simply for the sheer fun of it. I even set up a tattoo studio for neighborhood children, where they could have their skin adorned with colorful designs made with colored pens. I vividly remember one time when I brought this idea to school, and I created a poster to announce my services. During breaks, kids from other classes would gather in for their unique tattoos.

My creative spirit extended to weaving bracelets and crafting an array of handmade objects, including photo frames, jewelry boxes, decorative bottles, and various accessories. There was a time when I delved into pottery, mastering the potter’s wheel to craft an assortment of unique items. I cherish the memory of my friend and me launching a blog and a Facebook page to showcase and sell our creations, most of which found their way into the homes of our supportive family members. Seeing those objects in my relatives’ houses today fills me with emotion, reminding me of the creative child with a twinkle in their eye.

In addition to these endeavors, I dedicated over six years to painting classes. My artwork graced exhibitions and was submitted to competitions, and some pieces, painted as gifts for my mother, now proudly adorn our living room.

Beyond my personal experiences, the people around me also reinforced my belief in my creativity. As a child, receiving praise for pursuing such creative passions, especially when many of my peers were glued to TVs and computers, felt like an adult’s approval, and that further solidified my self-perception as a creative child.

As I deep dive into my memories, I come across a moment when doubt began to creep into my creative abilities.

It all started during my painting classes. I found myself comparing my work to that of my peers, some of whom displayed exceptional talent in creating incredibly realistic and beautiful paintings. In the shadow of their brilliance, my own efforts seemed to fade. In a quest to match their skills, I began to prioritize following instructions, seeking assistance, and striving for perfection. The carefree, imaginative spirit that once guided my artistic endeavors gave way to meticulous precision, and I would hold my breath with every stroke of the brush on the canvas.

Looking back, I wish someone had imparted the wisdom that art transcends the confines of realism. It’s a medium for expressing one’s authentic self, a means of conveying emotions and provoking introspection—a magical realm where creativity knows no bounds, where exploration and enjoyment should reign supreme.

However, this realization eluded me. I hid my struggles well, letting my interest fade quietly, showing no signs of inner turmoil.

The trajectory of my creative inclinations also influenced my academic path. Although I had meticulously prepared for law school throughout high school, I made a last-minute decision to pursue a marketing degree. My creative essence yearned for expression, and I embarked on this journey hoping to nurture that side of me.

In retrospect, it was undoubtedly the right choice. However, my academic pursuits leaned heavily towards economics, business, and market research. Over seven years of professional experience in the marketing field, I continued to create within the constraints of strategy and business results. It seemed that there was limited room for unbridled creativity, contrary to what I had initially envisioned. While others in the field might hold a different perspective, I firmly believed that this industry was not conducive to the unrestrained expression of a truly creative and free-spirited individual.

During this phase, my connection with creativity decreased even more. It seemed almost ridiculous to describe myself as a creative person; I felt there was no concrete evidence to support such a claim. My spirit was stifled, preoccupied with meeting expectations and fulfilling demands.

Yet, my creative spark still flickered within. I engaged in various creative pursuits during my free time. Painting by numbers became a comforting escape, providing structure when I lacked the confidence to create freely. I honed my drawing skills, attended pottery classes, and dabbled in candle-making, each experience transporting me back to a childlike state of wonder.

In those moments, I felt vibrantly alive and content, as if I had entered a trance where the world faded into insignificance. I should have recognized the significance of this moments, but the demands of my busy life obscured its true importance.

Recent days I sensed a rekindling of my creative spirit. It was as if my intuition led me to the dusty corners of a closet. My untouched paint-by-numbers board lay in waiting. I couldn’t ignore this inner guidance; I chose to listen.

Inspiration struck while wandering with my dog in a nearby park, where I collected a fallen branch adorned with some stunning leaves. Eager to transform them into a project, I ventured to the store for supplies. The experience was truly delightful—navigating aisles filled with a kaleidoscope of colors, textures, and accessories. I allowed my senses to absorb the myriad possibilities, and gradually, an idea began to take shape. It was a recalling of my childhood, when materials became my muse, guiding me to craft my vision.

Remarkably, I even dusted off my sewing skills, fixing a beautifully soft woolen sweater with a slight hole. I acquired some pearl beads and, guided by intuition, stitched them into a design that felt just right.

What became apparent is that, as an artist, you are not the sole creator of an art object or project; you are a co-creator. I felt an intricate dance unfolding, where the materials themselves held a voice, and my role was to manifest their energy in the physical realm. I surrendered to this dance, allowing inspiration to carry me along.

This extraordinary experience left me with profound reflections, and I’d like to share a few with you.

Firstly, I’ve come to believe that there aren’t inherently “creative” or “non-creative” people. Instead, there are those who have easier access to creativity and divine inspiration and this might be linked with each level of conciousness. Moreover, I hold the belief that anyone, regardless of their field, life stage, or circumstances, can tap into their creativity and bring forth incredible creations into the physical world.

Secondly, I find myself rebuilding trust in my ability to create. I’m learning to embrace the role of a midwife in the creative process, a notion that both excites and intimidates me. It involves opening up to a greater force and being receptive to its guidance.

Lastly, I’ve come to understand that the process of creation unfolds step by step. It’s about building a grand vision through incremental progress. In doing so, I’ve discovered that unforeseen beauty can emerge, things I might not have envisioned at the outset.

I’m uncertain about what the future holds, but I’m convinced that this newfound inspiration didn’t come to me by chance. I sense that something remarkable is on the horizon, and I’m preparing myself for it. For the first time, I feel like a truly dedicated student, eagerly embracing this journey of rediscovery and creative exploration.


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