The
International Writers Magazine: Creativity
Curioser
and curioser!
• Annie Lalla
What's
the latest book you read? Which people catch your eye? What do you
think of while falling asleep? Inquiry and creativity are quintessential
human traits. I'm going to suggest that what makes each of us unique
is our particular brand of curiosity and imagination. This signature
combo, which defines our essence, is the optimal place from which
to source our power, our beauty and our highest sense of self.
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Take that recent
book you read -curiosity made you pick it up, read the words, turn the
pages; imagination let you bring it to life. Curiosity had the book
get written in the first place. The writer's imagination found its way
onto the page because some force compelled her towards those ideas.
Writing, either fiction or non-fiction is often a kind of study, a pioneering
inquiry into the unknown.
cu·ri·os·i·ty
[kyoor-ee-os-i-tee]
–noun
o the desire to learn, know, explore anything; inquisitiveness.
o an object that arouses interest by being novel or extraordinary
o a strange, odd or interesting qualityim·ag·na·tion
[i-maj-uh-ney-shuhn]
–noun
o the faculty or action of forming images in the mind
o the ability to think new ideas, be creative or resourceful
o the faculty of the mind which conceives ideas based on information
from sense organs
o an act of creating a semblance of reality
The forces of curiosity and imagination pull us towards pleasure, expansion
and integration with the rest of the world. Together they form a character
profile in each of us. If you follow their lead, boldly and triumphantly,
they will take you everywhere you want to go.
Creativity is not always obvious; it lingers, it lurks, it jumps out
when you least expect. As lofty as a sonnet or as mundane as a post-it
note, art is pervasive. Ancient Balinese had no special word for 'artist'.
Painting, dancing, sculpting, making music were just things they did
between chores.
Every sound you hear, flavor you taste or thought you think is an original
act of creation. You're collaborating with sensory input to generate
a brand new experience, occurring for the first time in the history
of the world. Each day you invent at least one sentence that has never
been uttered before - and do so effortlessly. Creativity is our birthright,
it eludes no one.
If we viewed every creative act as art, what would be your magnum opus?
Imagination, a realm of infinite possibility, gives rise to all we can
ever conceive, comprehend or concoct. It is the mother of all novelty
and the source of creativity. Seemingly poised between inner and outer
worlds, it mediates between the mind and body; bridges sensation to
thought. Imagination makes sensory experience meaningful, enabling us
to interpret and contextualize it, assisted by the psyche's inevitable
bias. This shaping of awareness by our inner storyteller lays the foundation
of all knowledge.
Just as imagination informs knowledge, what we know or don't know affects
our imagination. When Watson & Crick dreamed up the double helix
for DNA it was on the back of much study into the molecular structure
of genes. Newton's mastery of math & physics afforded his creative
insights in optics. Joan Miró's exposure to surrealist thought
and Freud informed all of his art. The more you know, the more fodder
for imagination.
Knowledge and imagination seem to have a sort of symbiotic relationship;
each is essential for the other. Yet, according to Einstein, "imagination
is more important than knowledge." I am driven to agree, not as
a rejection of knowledge, but because imagination is a current act of
creation –emerging, organic and alive. Knowledge is based on historic
facts. The past, inert and fixed, is already obsolete.
Imagination generates hitherto unseen mental imagery, making it possible
to probe beyond the confines of our perceptual reality. It helps us
weigh alternatives, solve problems, rehearse scenarios, combine facts
and stretch knowledge in novel ways and so devise new possibilities
for action.
I've never believed intelligence is simply a matter of knowledge. Rather,
it's a measure of our ability to learn. Since imagination is the engine
for making new connections between disparate areas, it's crucial to
learning. And it's long been my own private measure of intelligence
in others -the more creative a person's cognition, the more I admire
their mind.
Imagination allows us to think about what is, what's been and what will
be.
Take our present moment, humans do not record sensory data unbiased
as with a camera or computer. Perceptions are assimilated by an inventive,
agenda driven mind. We actively generate our subjective experiences.
A study at Northwestern University monitored subjects' brains with fMRI
to track real and imagined memories. They concluded that parts of the
brain used to perceive an object overlap with those used to imagine
it. Your brain often cannot distinguish between imagining and actually
experiencing.
Our past is informed by imagination, both in how we lay down memories
and conjure them up. We all know memory fades with age. Recent neuro-imaging
studies conducted by Harvard psychologist Donna Addis show that brain
mechanisms used to imagine are also used to remember. Older subjects
with a lack of imagination were more prone to suffer a declining memory.
Similar studies of severe amnesiacs with impaired imagining also affirm
the link between these two processes.
All thoughts of a future are inherently creative acts -ideals, goals,
predictions and fears, even the idea of our own death. Imagination blurs
the boundaries between actuality and fantasy. All our beliefs, contexts
and mental constructions form our framework for reality, which governs
what we view as possible. This in turn generates dreams -our call towards
actualization.
It seems we cannot escape imagination's pervasive contributions to our
past, present and future. But would we want to? As imagination forges
our reality it funds our ability to create stories, identify with others,
assess minds, model motivations and develop moral awareness. The ability
to recognize our self in the reflection of others is central to the
experience of being human.
Maybe the 'I' is an elaborate narrative, a useful fiction we develop
primarily in a social context, especially with our first 'other': M(other).
It is, I believe, the most instinctive story we have, perhaps the most
powerful. In a way, we actually imagine our selves into existence.
Now why might we do that? If imagination is the repository for all that's
possible in human experience, then perhaps we're part of a universe
which itself can be viewed as a giant experiment in design space, evolution
its minion and each phenomenon a hypothesis for testing. Could we be
a series of curious questions posed by the cosmos? Imagine that.
All scientific experiments are driven by curiosity. To discover who
and what we are, we investigate our context -that is the world, its
patterns and our uncanny ability to have an inquiry at all.
Curiosity moves from inchoate yearning-to-understand to concrete requests-for-information,
either in the form of actions or questions. The actions often involve
observance of sensory data; like a parent checking a diaper. The questions
take the form of how, who, what, where, when, why in some combination;
like a first year philosophy class.
A relentless, mysterious driver, curiosity is an ancient channel for
life force. Children stare, dogs sniff, bats listen. Even the amoeba
has a yen to explore; with pseudo pods, selective membranes and cytoplasmic
assessments. Every exploration is a unique created act, stemming from
a primordial core.
|
Imagine
this: On a park bench you spy a red envelope and
wonder what's inside. Looking around there's no one in sight.
Moving closer you notice it contains a letter. As you lift the envelope
questions cascade through your mind: What kind of letter is
this? Who wrote it? Why? What does it say?
Should I read it? Should I not? |
As quick as the
questions appear, answers follow: Perhaps it's a love letter,
or a poignant farewell note. It could be a break-up or an epic
confession. Maybe it's erotica or an elaborate to-do list.
Mystery beckons. Even before unfolding the page you've already
conjured an array of stories –all vying to be true. As curiosity
and imagination mingle in creative abandon, you are revealed in the
process.
Unfolded, the missive displays a strange spiral of foreign symbols spinning
out from the center. It doesn't look like English, and none of
it makes sense. Our curiosity is unsatisfied and so fires off
inquiry and imagining, as we seek to dissolve confusion.
Uncertainty is threatening –a knife at the throat.
If there are questions left unanswered or a gap in information, the
mind desperately seeks to fill it in…even if it has to lie.
Curiosity, in its endless urge to make sense of the world, calls imagination
into action. Always demanding observation, it's why we attend
to the new, the strange and the unexpected. For every question
we pose, we tacitly assume there's an answer.
Ever notice how children are insatiably curious? Their minds have
a gravitational pull towards understanding, almost at any cost (a great
adaptation for memetic transference). What kids choose to ask
about is a useful indicator of their character; it allows you to read
their minds. In some ways, who one is is a series of questions.
Curiosity –our unique, individual curiosity– is a major factor
in the fingerprint of our identity.
Like hunger, pure curiosity is a primal drive. Yet it seems to
me that much of the world is starving. All kids start out asking
questions. So why do they stop? Do they run out? Does
curiosity dry up with age? As children mature, less and less ask
the questions they actually want answered. Even fewer realize
they're riddled with questions unasked. Have you ever wanted to
know something but were afraid to inquire? Why?
During childhood, grown-ups start responding differently to our queries,
reinforcing some, discouraging others. We're trained to ask only
those questions that are appropriate. Over time our wide-eyed
sense of wonder wanes, leaving fear & doubt in its wake. This
reduced daring depletes the urge to step beyond the bounds of social
protocol, cultural paradigms and conventional thought. Curiosity
persists, but bravado may not. The questions may still occur,
we just don't ask them. We stop heeding this compass built in
by Nature to guide us though the vast confusions of reality.
Fear is the main limiter of freedom. Yet curiosity itself can
offer the courage to negotiate around it. When intrigue supersedes
trepidation, we act despite our concerns. The desire to know that
which we don't already know may be the most powerful tool for transcending
fear.
When you stop asking questions to the world, you stop asking questions
to yourself. Once that happens, the mysterious allure of life
evaporates. Curiosity keeps the mind alive, moving in some direction.
It is our access to openness and transformation. Without it we
become closed, stagnant and dated. To be a human being is to be
in an inquiry. I ask, therefore I am.
At some point people give up and sell out for easy answers or comforting
truths. To me, this is the saddest thing to witness. For
once we do that, what we give up is our rawest self; the part of us
that's most engaged, most alive. To betray our curiosity is to
betray our inner truth. I see every unasked question as a kind
of lie.
It's much easier to be honest than afraid. To honor your curiosity
and unleash your imagination does take courage. Doing so may breach
social mores and draw odd looks. But freedom always comes at a
cost, if the price of feeding your own private wonder is the demise
of your status quo, I'd consider it a bargain. Besides you don't
even have to think, just listen close for the next question your imagination
whispers…hear it, revere it, succumb to it, then follow its lead.
Trust is essential; seeing your questions as expressions of your intelligence
will give you courage. You have no idea where a question might
take you; but remember, not knowing the outcome is a prerequisite for
adventure.
Like hunger, pure curiosity is a primal drive. Yet it seems to me that
much of the world is starving. All kids start out asking questions.
So why do they stop? Do they run out? Does curiosity dry up with age?
As children mature, less and less ask the questions they actually want
answered. Even fewer realize they're riddled with questions unasked.
Have you ever wanted to know something but were afraid to inquire? Why?
During childhood, grown-ups start responding differently to our queries,
reinforcing some, discouraging others. We're trained to ask only those
questions that are appropriate. Over time our wide-eyed sense of wonder
wanes, leaving fear & doubt in its wake. This reduced daring depletes
the urge to step beyond the bounds of social protocol, cultural paradigms
and conventional thought. Curiosity persists, but bravado may not. The
questions may still occur, we just stop asking them. We stop heeding
this compass built in by Nature to guide us though the vast confusions
of reality.
Fear is the main limiter of freedom. Yet curiosity itself can offer
the courage to negotiate around it. When intrigue supersedes trepidation,
we act despite our concerns. The desire to know that which we don't
already know may be the most powerful tool for transcending fear.
When you stop asking questions to the world, you stop asking questions
to yourself. Once that happens, the mysterious allure of life evaporates.
Curiosity keeps the mind alive, moving in some direction. It is our
access to openness and transformation. Without it we become closed,
stagnant and dated. To be a human being is to be in an inquiry. I ask,
therefore I am.
At some point people give up and sell out for easy answers or comforting
truths. To me, this is the saddest thing to witness. For once we do
that, what we give up is our rawest self; the part of us that's most
engaged, most alive. To betray our curiosity is to betray our inner
truth. I see every unasked question as a kind of lie.
It's much easier to be honest than afraid. To honor your curiosity and
unleash your imagination does take courage. Doing so may breach social
mores and draw odd looks. But freedom always comes at a cost, if the
price of feeding your own private wonder is your own status quo, I'd
consider it a bargain. Besides you don't even have to think, just listen
close for the next question your imagination whispers…hear it,
revere it, succumb to it, then follow its lead. Trust is essential;
seeing your questions as expressions of your intelligence will give
you courage. You have no idea where a question might take you, but remember,
not knowing the outcome is a prerequisite for adventure.
It's not clear that we're born with imagination; curiosity on the other
hand is there from the start. Nothing characterizes wonder more than
a baby. Eyes wide and dazzled, they drink in their surroundings. Every
room is a festival of color and motion, a sensational parade. It's been
said their consciousness resembles the giddy synaesthesia of psychedelic
space. How wild to start life as an acid trip.
Curiosity generates knowledge, knowledge expands imagination and imagination
manufactures meaning. As humans, we are meaning-making machines. Our
response to the persistent question "What does this mean?"
is to make up a story. And to do this we're eternally invoking imagination.
Something happens, you observe it, then you make up a story. We forget
we do this and pretend our stories are true. All the stories you conjure
are signature patterns that create context. This semantic framework
governs your mood, outlook and quality of life. Since your imagination
conjures your reality, it characterizes your particular pattern of being,
so makes the perfect place to stand when you wonder who you are.
Wonder is where curiosity collides with imagination. It means to be
struck with mystery and awe. Gazing up from the desert to a starry black
sky, watching the birth of a calf, tasting your first mango –all
these conjure fascination. A state of wowed disbelief, wonder is the
womb from which every question is born.
won·der
[wuhn-der]
–verb
o to think or speculate curiously
o to be filled with admiration, amazement, marvel (at)
–noun
o something strange & surprising, a cause of awe & reverence
o the emotion excited by what is strange, amazing & astonishing
Finding ways to embody wonder and be moved by the world is our key to
staying open. It keeps your psyche soft and heart supple. The mind wants
to move; it's always moving. Pulled forward by the subtle calls of curiosity,
propelled further by imagination, your story is a special dance -unique
to you. Alive, organic, expanding, this is an excellent way to identify
your self and others. Your wonder is what makes you a wonder, and is
the ideal place to source your beauty and your brilliance.
© Annie Lalla January 2009
Annie Lalla lives in New York
https://www.annielalla.com
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