The Creative Mind

As a creative type, I’ve come to the conclusion that there is something missing in the creative mind. It’s a block that other people, the more left brained, constrained type appear not to have. It’s that mechanism that keeps them from standing in the middle of a parking lot and staring at the clouds’ formations or the color of the late summer sky. It’s that awareness of what others will think if they stop and talk to the small child who is pretending that he is a star warrior, not only stop but add to the kid’s tale.

I’ve always been considered odd by my family and “creative” by my friends. As people become familiar with me, they come to consider it typical for me to stop and watch a dandelion fluff burst into flight. To pull out a scrap of paper and scribble something on it after walking past a couple arguing or cuddling or walking hand in hand. So, I’ve come to the non-scientific conclusion that I have something missing.

I’m convinced that most people see the same things I do. But their reactions are almost always different from mine. A “typical” day can become inspiration for a story or a scene or, even better, a source of joy for me. I love walking and watching, seeing life evolve around me. For others, a leaf twirling on the end of a tree branch doesn’t warrant several minutes’ observation. But for the creative mind, it’s a wonder, a priceless gift of the day.

I used to think I was something less because I had that “mechanism” missing in my brain. I stood out as a bit odd, a little different from others. Now, as I become older, I’m convinced God blessed me with a gift. The gift of seeing the small things. Of feeling the joys and sadness that life’s foibles bring.

It’s a two-edged gift, of course. I also feel the intense sadness of life. But, for now, I choose to see the happy face of a flower as it blooms in the rain and will stand in a down pour to commune with nature.

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