In the Zone of Creation
I’ve said something similar in the past, but I think the love of creation is what really fuels me as a person and a writer. I enjoy spinning ideas from my mind into written works, drawings, and even LEGO builds. There’s something innately satisfying about building something from nothing using the materials at your disposal. It’s energizing in a way that’s not easy to compare to other emotions I’ve experienced.
When I’m creating a character, coming up with a plot, designing a map of a fictional place, or constructing something brick by brick, I simultaneously get this rush and comfort of feeling like I’m in a zone of nirvana. No, I don’t mean a drug-induced hallucinatory experience. I’m not talking about the band either. It’s difficult to describe within the limits of language, but I’ll try.
The act of creation is sublime. No, wait, that’s a word I absolutely hate. Sounds ridiculously pretentious and always comes out of the mouth of a blowhard with a bighead. Let me try a different word: transcendent. In a word, I feel almost transported to a different place and time, a place of absolute peace and purpose, when I practice my talents.
It’s not always a good day for a creator. There are a lot of inhibitions, stumbling through the dark, and generally ill will that get in the way of a good story/art piece/LEGO build. It’s often the case that the work is time-consuming, unprofitable, and prone to fits of incoherence. But I take the bad with the good, realizing that these fits and starts ultimately lead to the final product.
Some say that only an artist can really appreciate his own work. Others argue that a man with a creative plan is his own worst critic. Perhaps both statements are true to an extent. For me, every great work of art, the kind that feels transcendent, appeals to most everyone on some level. Whether the audience appreciates its merit on a simplistic basis or on a deeper, more intellectual (probably pseudointellectual) level, I think that the very best of the best art is rooted in some basic desire to create and to see how others approach their craft.
I’ve mentioned in the past that I think our acts of creativity demonstrate how we’re made in the image of God. Not that we can possibly even compare (and certainly not favorably) to the true Creator. We’re decidedly inferior; we can ascertain that by looking at how beautiful the world is even in a fallen state. But that small mirror, that minor reflection, I think, points to the truth that is our design. We may be shadows, but every one of us is capable of paying homage to Him who made us.
To say that creating makes me feel closer to God, like I understand Him on some other level, is more than a little egotistical. I won’t go that far. But I do think it reaffirms my faith in no small way. The fact that I can even think of imitating Him both excites and humbles me as a person.
“The Lord’s works are great, studied by all who delight in them. All that He does is splendid and majestic; His righteousness endures forever. He has caused His wonderful works to be remembered.” (Psalm 111:2-3)
