The Strangest Thing Just Happened

The strangest thing just happened
Just yesterday you were in your mommy’s womb
Her body was preparing room

The strangest thing just happened
Just yesterday we gave you your name
Now our lives are not the same

The strangest thing just happened
Just yesterday you were being born
My heart became more fully formed

The strangest thing just happened
Just yesterday I held you for the first time
You were so small, oh child of mine

The strangest thing just happened
Just yesterday you were in the hospital
Now you’re home and on the go

The strangest thing just happened
Just yesterday you were curled upon my chest
Lying there and getting rest

The strangest thing just happened
Just yesterday we laid you in a bassinet
But now a crib is where you’ve slept

The strangest thing just happened
Just yesterday you learned how to crawl
Now here you are walking tall

The strangest thing just happened
Just yesterday you could but cry
Yet soon you will be asking “why?”

The strangest thing just happened

Life Is Pain

Pardon me while I ramble. Somewhere in these thoughts, maybe you’ll find something of value.

I’m turning 40, and one thing I’ve learned over the years is that life is painful. The older I get, the more I feel it in my body. Youth is fleeting, but it leaves behind a trail of wounds, injuries, and scars in its wake. (Even after I started writing this post, I experienced multiple instances of pain. I kicked a baby gate with my left foot and burned my right arm on the same day. Later in the week, I got bitten by one of our cats on that same arm.) I see life’s pain in our world with all its chaos and uncertainty, especially from just the last 5 years. I also see it in general as I get older; the longer we live, the more we face the loss of loved ones to death or broken relationships.

But that’s life. Life is filled with sadness, pain, and tragedy. In this, it becomes easy to accept the move from rose-colored glasses of childhood to jaded cynicism of adulthood. Because of this, the phrase “faith like a child” means something.

Ironically, our modern cultural is built around pain avoidance, all the while pain is all around us and in some ways reminds us we’re alive. We try to flee it or numb ourselves to it. We want everything to be “safe” and “sanitary,” but that’s not life. That’s existence, but that’s not life. Anyone with a child can tell you life is messy.

It’s not to say that life is just terrible and tragic, full of ugliness and misery. No, while pain is a part of this life, life itself is so much more than a downward doom spiral to the grave. This life is also filled with joy, laughter, and beauty that can’t be described or adequately captured with even the best camera. But these are reminders that pain and suffering aren’t all we have.

Over the last 40 years, the world has changed a lot, each decade abounding with more and more changes, both good and bad. As I look back over the last couple decades, I can see ways I’ve changed and ways I’ve stayed the same. I’ve changed in ways that I might not recognize myself as the person I used to be, but there are also parts that are still me.

In the past decade alone, I’ve experienced pains (some mentioned above) and celebrations. I’ve changed jobs, gotten married, had a child, and recently written a book. Each event an occasion to celebrate.

As I watch my child grow, I get to watch her experience the joy of simplicity, the wonderment of learning, and the trials of childhood. Trials that are trivialities to an adult. She possesses an innocence that seems all but lost in today’s world. Her world is not the big chaotic globe we all trod. It’s the home we live in, the people she knows, and the french fries she eats. She doesn’t yet know how messed up and painful the world is. One of her biggest “afflictions” is a parent disappearing for a few minutes into a room she can’t access. To her, this feels devastating.

Although she’s just starting out in life and I’m much further along, we both can and will experience pain to some degree or another over the years. But we’ll also experience joy and laughter. Somewhere between the two is this chaotic yet beautiful thing we call life.

My cat bite after a couple days

On Being A Father

Behold, children are a gift of the Lord, -Psalm 127:3a

Today is Father’s Day. And in honor of Father’s Day, I wanted to share some thoughts about being a dad.

I didn’t used to know how much I’d like being a dad, but being a dad is one of my greatest joys and privileges in life. I’m not gonna lie and say it’s always easy; because it’s not. Even just a few months in and with a mostly easygoing baby, it can still be difficult at times. Babies get messy, and they cry for reasons you have to try to figure out (food, usually food). Sometimes you might even get upset yourself. At them. But at the end of the day, there is something indescribable about being a parent. Though I can’t speak for what it means to be a mother, I can speak from my experience as a fledgling father. If I were to make a book on the joys of fatherhood at this stage, it would just be pictures of shirts covered in spit up and vomit. Sure it’s gross and will never not be gross, but beyond that grossness are cherished memories and precious time together.

While my daughter is just a few months on the outside of the womb, fatherhood for me did not begin the day she was born. It began months prior, as I was being prepared mentally and emotionally to begin my new role and be ready to step into dad mode. In many ways, nothing changes for a man when a child is expected. As a man, I am unable to experience pregnancy, to feel the movements, the quiet expectations, the internalization of what is happening to me.  It’s only through my wife’s words and sonogram visits that I got a glimpse of what now is. (I’m thankful I work at a place that allowed me the opportunity to be at every appointment.)

That first sonogram made knowing I’m a father real, seeing the form of a tiny human, seeing those little undeveloped arm nubs, watching and hearing that tiny heartbeat for the first time. If a heart could smile, such an experience would’ve made my heart smile. We didn’t yet know if it was a boy or girl, but in those moments, it didn’t matter. There on that screen was our little bean. (Incidentally, it was in the shadow of Roe v Wade being overturned that we experienced this joyous occasion, and I couldn’t help but also be repulsed by the barbarity of those who pretend this isn’t what we could clearly see.)

When my daughter was born, she spent her first couple weeks in NICU. The reason wasn’t life-threatening per se, but it was enough to warrant a stay. In those days, weeks, and months leading up to our baby’s arrival, we were willing to accept parental advice from others. (It’s our first child, and we had no idea what we were doing.) But in all that advice, there was no preparing for this. Whatever we had thought or hoped might happen, we ended up spending days driving to and from a hospital to stay with our baby for a while, only to go home without her and do it again the next day. We even had icy weather that kept us away one of those days. It was a rather unpleasant time of uncertainty, but we were so happy and relieved when we could finally take our baby girl home with us.

Every once in a while, you might hear “my child taught me this or that.” My daughter is still an infant, so I can’t really say she’s taught me anything, but she gives me a reason to smile. More accurately, she is one of my reasons to smile; when I smile at her, she smiles back. I have resting baby face (in polite terms), and I don’t often think about smiling. I tend to be more focused on my own thoughts or whatever task I’m dealing with at the moment. But if I want to see her smile, I often must smile at her first. There are times she smiles unprompted, and I feel the urge to smile back. Sometimes she smiles big, showing gums and all, and that’s one of my favorite things in life: big smiles from my little girl.

Being a parent means a lot of decisions, responsibilities, and sacrifice. Needless to say, fatherhood is not always glitz and glamour; maybe it never is. Unfortunately, too many men abandon fatherhood too quickly, in some case before the baby even arrives. They run away from the responsibility of parenthood, but they also miss out on things that make it special, such as just holding one’s own baby. I’ve held babies of friends and family, but there’s something special about holding my own baby in my arms, watching that baby fall asleep on my chest, even with the unspoken understanding such moments won’t last forever. I know my daughter won’t stay little forever. (Admittedly, there’s a part of me that wishes she could, but that’s not how life works.) Maybe it goes without saying that there’s incredible responsibility as a parent, but there’s also joy that comes with being one. In spite of all the diaper changes and spit up, holding my own baby is one the most special experiences I know of, and it makes all the challenges worth it.

As I mentioned, I’m just starting out on this journey called parenthood, more specifically fatherhood, so I don’t have any deep insights about raising children. Although there is more that I could say about being a dad, I’m still learning how to raise an infant. I can’t see how my baby will turn out, and I don’t know what mistakes I’ll make along the way either. I do know my baby won’t be a baby forever, so for now I’m going to hold her close and enjoy my time with her while she still is. Spit up and all.

Ode to Mike

(Originally published June 2, 2010)

Has it been so long?
A year has past,
Since the time
We saw you last

But you would not want
For us to be sad,
But rejoice in the Lord
And to always be glad.

Quite a character,
You’re one-of-a-kind.
No one else like you–
Oh, not that I mind.

You were warm and friendly
And always around.
Right where we left you,
You’d likely be found

You were hard at work
There was just no slowing.
You didn’t seem to stop.
What kept you going?

Though some look at you,
Might see half a man
Bad leg, sight, and sound
And lacking in hands.

While we take for granted
All that we’ve been given,
You didn’t complain.
You were too busy livin’.

You’d give God the glory
And all of the praise.
Though hand incomplete,
You’d still have it raised.

So with a fond farewell,
I bid you adieu
Until up in Heaven,
When I’ll walk with you.

Michael “Video Mike” Pyzdrowski
R.I.P.
June 2, 2009

Just A Fetus

Yes, I am just a fetus
That’s why I need
Your love and protection
Not hate and destruction

I’m vulnerable, you see
And I rely on thee
To look after me

I have a heartbeat
And that’s no fable
But you can make decisions
While I am unable

I haven’t been born yet
I’m at a growing stage
I may be so tiny
But I look my age

You may see me
As less than human
And want to decide
That I’m not worth preservin’

I am human like you
Though not fully grown
Yet without your protection
I am all alone

You were once like me
At this point in your life
The difference between us
Is you’re on the outside

For My Father-In-Law (On His Birthday)

I mentioned previously that my father-in-law passed away earlier this year. Today (Dec 7) marks what would’ve been his 70th birthday. In honor of his birthday, I wanted to share the full text of what I wrote for his memorial service.


I’m not holding onto You
But You’re holding onto me

These lyrics from a Casting Crowns song that remind me God is holding on and not the other way around have been a comfort during this sad and difficult time; the day I learned of Jim’s passing, those words kept playing in my mind while I was driving. I don’t cry very often, and I like to think the light rain falling that day was for the tears I felt unable to shed, but listening to that song and being reminded that God is holding on allowed me an opportunity to cry for Jim’s passing. 

The day I heard he passed, I knew I wanted to say something at his service, but I didn’t know what at the time. I only knew him for not quite three years before he passed, so I don’t have any deep, meaningful, or funny stories to share about his life. In the time I’ve known him, his health limited his travel ability, so almost the only time I spent with him was when Jaimee and I would visit Denton. The most meaningful one-on-one conversation we had was the day I talked with him about marrying Jaimee when I asked him about his life, but there were things I still didn’t know about him until Jaimee and I were sorting through photos for his slideshow.

Jim, or as I had started calling him “J-Pop” in recent months, was by no means perfect; he was a man rough around the edges. He was stubborn with a sarcastic sense of humor; we connected over that shared style of humor and a love for his daughter Jaimee. There’s a special place in his heart for Jaimee, being his only daughter, his only child. Both are strong-willed people, and they had their disagreements, but at the end of the day they loved each other. I know he wanted to see her happy and was glad he lived long enough to walk her down the aisle, even if it was only part of the way. 

Before we met, Jaimee was his primary caretaker, so he came to depend on her for a lot. I never said it before he passed, but there were times I felt as if I took her away from him, but sometimes change motivates growth. When Jaimee and I first got engaged and she was getting ready to move out, Jim went into denial that his little girl was growing up, but he eventually came to terms with what was happening. Once he accepted she was moving out and getting married, he started to do more things for himself for a while, which improved his demeanor, but at some point his health began to decline again. Because he had health problems, lived alone, and was a bit of a distance from us, we wanted him to think about living in a retirement community, but being the stubborn man he was, he didn’t want to leave his house or his cats. He loved those cats and took care of them, often at the expense of himself and his health. I’m not sure if he loved Jaimee or his cats more, but he didn’t have pictures of his cats around his house or in his wallet.

Since he didn’t travel much, there wasn’t a lot we could do together, but after Jaimee and I got married, we would go to Denton to visit every few Saturdays, spend some time together, and maybe play Spades or Farkle with Jim and Janet. You need four people for Spades, and Janet wasn’t very good when we started playing, but Jim taught her to become a much better Spades player and a more-formidable opponent. Even though we didn’t do much together as a family, those visits would brighten his day.

We also liked to joke around together. While playing games, he would jokingly tell me to watch out for Jaimee as if she was trouble. As we would get ready to leave for the day, he would jokingly tell her to take care of me like I was helpless, and we would tell him we take care of each other. We shared other jokes and sarcastic quips together over the last couple years. Jim may be gone, but his sense of humor lives on through Jaimee.

God’s timing is never our timing. Jim was months away from turning 70, a milestone we would’ve liked to celebrate together. He may not have lived as long as we would’ve liked, but he lived longer than even he expected and got to see his only daughter get married. We wish Jim could’ve lived a few more years, maybe one day get to see and hold a grandchild, but God had other plans. We may never know why Jim was taken from us when he was, but I am reminded that God is still here; he is in control and has His reasons, and He is still holding onto us, and this has brought me comfort as we mourn Jim’s passing. We’re told in 1 Thessalonians – which the pastor read for us– that we who are in Christ don’t mourn as those who have no hope; hope in this case is not a wishful longing, but an assurance of what is to come, that we will one day see our loved ones who have died in Christ; though we grieve now for Jim’s passing, one day we will see him again.

We may never plan for the day we lose a loved one, but that day still comes.
We may never expect to say that last goodbye, but those words will be spoken.
We think we’ll see someone tomorrow, but sometimes tomorrow comes alone.

If you love someone, don’t neglect to tell them so.
Always say goodbye when you leave the ones you know.
There will be a time you can’t, for tomorrow will one day come alone.

Jim, we love you and miss you. For now we say goodbye, but someday we’ll see you again.

jim

Sometimes Tomorrow Comes Alone

(In honor of my father-in-law, who passed away in early June)

We may never plan for the day we lose a loved one, but that day still comes.
We may never expect to say that last goodbye, but those words will be spoken.
We think we’ll see someone tomorrow, but sometimes tomorrow comes alone.

If you love someone, don’t neglect to tell them so.
Always say goodbye when you leave the ones you know.
There will be a time you can’t, for tomorrow will one day come alone.

Ten Years Later…

31258_10150199602845322_617823_n

It’s been about ten years since my life first took a change for the better. I didn’t know how much could change in that length of time, but looking back I can see how different my life looks compared to what it was.

The short version is my life was going nowhere. I was stuck in empty routines and living with untapped potential. I was somewhat self-enclosed and shut off from people around me. In some ways, I struggled with depression and didn’t have much sense of self-worth. I felt as if no one knew the real me or cared. I had what I call “hello, goodbye” relationships.1

I grew up in the church, so I know what it’s like to live in a “church world” bubble and not see or understand what’s going on in the rest of the world, to not care about what’s going on around me.  It eventually became a place I went to, something I did, a mindless routine in a week of nothing. For a little over 24 years, I stayed at the church I was basically born into and the place I got saved, but I finally decided to leave a place I had grown up and venture somewhere else. By the time I left, there was a generational gap between most of the people and myself; my brother and I were the “young adults.” It’s hard to feel a sense of belonging if there’s no one to relate.2

Prior to leaving I had felt little real world connection and instead retreated into an online world where I had connected with people I didn’t know in person. Ironically, I developed some lacking social skills by interacting with people online and being part of their virtual community. I was (still am sorta) part of a LEGO forum that allowed me to express myself and connect with others in ways I hadn’t previously learned.3 I’ve since had a chance to meet some of these people and develop some friendships with them.

Before stepping out of what we knew, my brother and I were invited to visit a few church locations, one of which we chose to become members. There were plenty of people around our age, and there was some activity for such people, the first such event for us being June 17, 2009. So we settled in, though I stayed for about four years. In that time, I began to cultivate friendships with people my own age and more or less left the online forum for real world relationships. (This was also when Facebook and social media started taking off.) While I was part of this community, I did have a chance to travel to Hungary a couple of times and teach English at a summer camp, which was something I’d never done before. (It was also my first flight… two birds, one stone.) Eventually the number of young adults began to decline– along with other changes, and I again started to feel as if something was missing.

Before leaving there, I had been part of Bible study comprised of people I didn’t at first know but grew close with. It was led by a couple who became like mentors to me; they taught me things about myself and helped me grow into adulthood like no one else before. Under their guidance, I got my first “real” job, bought my first car, and moved out of my parents’ house. But then came the time the couple moved to California. It was bittersweet. We were sad to see them go but happy for their new beginning. Also, we had become somewhat insulated within our group, and after they left, the group kind of fell apart for various reasons (not necessarily all bad ones). We each branched out in different directions; some of us still keep in touch, but for the most part, people have since gone different ways.

That job I mentioned was not the greatest thing since sliced bread, but it did allow me an opportunity to grow as a person and develop some work skills, but it was a night job, so it also severely isolated me more than I had been previously and made me really feel the need for other people in my life. For five-and-a-half years, I worked nights and didn’t have much opportunity for social interaction outside of work. Since I worked nights, I was perpetually tired and miserable; I learned how much I had taken sleeping at nights for granted.4

Once the Bible study group dissolved, I felt more and more alone. I was living by myself and still working nights, and there weren’t a lot of people my age around me. Several months later, I wound up at a new church community with people around my own age, which was cathartic and helpful. For a time in my life, being around older people made me feel sad and somewhat depressed. But I was able to overcome this difficulty by building that missing connection of peers. I eventually found myself having no problems with being around people of any age group. However, due to my work schedule and living arrangement, there was so much I couldn’t be a part of, so I still had very little social life.

As I mentioned, I lived by myself part of the time I working nights. I managed for two-and-a-half years, and I learned more about myself. Unfortunately, due to circumstances, I opted to find a roommate and ended up in house with some other guys. Within a year of moving, my life took a few more major turns, and this was again for the better. I managed to find a job that is better in so many ways. After several years of working nights, I was finally able to work days and soon began to feel alive again.5 Soon after starting my job, I met the woman I would marry within a year’s time. : Since I began my daytime job, I was able to get better transportation (and I drove happily ever after, right?).

Aside from connecting with other people, being part of my current church community has allowed me creative opportunities like never before. During the time I felt little connection to the real world, I would write for myself in a journal because it seemed no one paid attention. Then I started relating to people online and in the real world, then began writing for audiences beyond myself. Eventually I figured out to some degree who I was as an artist and learned to write and share more openly. I’ve had some public performances, which I’ve enjoyed.

As I look back and reminisce, I see how my life is different. During the past 10 years, my life has had several changes, major and minor. There’s a lot more I could write about: of celebration and loss, of new places and experiences, of things learned, and the list goes on. But there are decisions I regret and mental reminders I’d rather forget, things I wish could’ve gone differently, but that is the past and cannot be change. 

I may not have always seen God’s hand during my circumstances or understood why at the time, but I know He has brought me through for a purpose, even if I don’t know what. I may not have always focused on God during these last ten years of transition, but I know He’s watching over me. All I have to do is look back and see how my life has changed from someone who basically wanted to be left alone to someone who is learning to love other people and enjoys being alive.

Who knows what the next ten years will bring.


The kind in which people ask how you’re doing, and you say “fine/okay” and they say “good” and move on.

There was one older guy I talked with about stuff, but he had passed away shortly before I left.

The Internet is such a wonderfully-interesting tool.

I have a perpetual reminder of my job via tinnitus in my left ear.

I still have issues with sleeping at times, but for the most part I feel more energized than I once did.

Behold, A Baby!

Behold the Messenger!


B
arren the womb

And advanced in years

A couple is without child


E
lizabeth will give birth

To him who first

Would come before the Christ


H
oly shall he be

From birth, all his days

Dedicated to the Lord


O
h, but Zacharias

Does not believe

And is silenced ’til the birth


L
oosened are his lips

When he makes known

John will be the baby’s name


D
umbfounded are all

Who hear of these things

And wonder what this child will become

 

Behold the Message!


B
ethlehem Ephrathah

So little among the towns

A ruler from you shall come forth


E
mmanuel! God with us!

God in the flesh

He shall walk among us


H
is goings from long ago

Eternity is His home

Yet He steps into time


O
come, O come

For Israel longs to see

Her promised Messiah


L
ong ago were recorded

The words of the prophet:

The virgin shall bear a child


D
ressed in humility

Oh Light of Eternity

Birthed that You might save

 

Behold the Messiah!


B
irth foretold

Prophecies of old

Speak of His unique arrival


E
ternity meets time

Wrapped so sublime

In the womb of Mary


H
ow can this be?

For you see,

She never touched a man.


O
vershadowed by

The Spirit of the Most High

He shall be called the Son of God


L
ong-awaited Savior

Born to set His people free

Jesus shall be His name


D
eliverance shall He bring

The sins of many shall He bear

Jew and Gentile alike

 

Behold, Emmanuel!

 

Creativity Is What I Am

NOTE: This is adapted and modified from something I wrote on Facebook a few years ago.

I’ll say up front that I am a Christian, and I believe people were made in the image of a Creator; subsequently, all people possess some form of creativity. In some way or another, each person can be creative, given the right circumstances. Granted, creativity is not limited to artistic expression, as creativity is the very essence of life; creativity is what transforms some cloth and poles into a tent, sheltering people from the elements. But for the sake of simplicity, I’m making the distinction between those people like me who live for or gravitate toward creative outlets and those who are less inclined to be creative as a means of self-expression.

The first thing is to ask, “What is creativity?” Google’s dictionary defines it as “the use of the imagination or original ideas, esp. in the production of an artistic work.” Creativity is essentially the ability to produce something new or different, usually intriguing, using whatever resources are accessible. Creativity turns an ordinary cardboard box into a fort, race car, spaceship, or even a non-ordinary cardboard box.

But how are creative types different from those who seemingly lack creative self-expression. What makes a person creative anyway? What qualities do creative types possess that link them together yet at the same time make each person different? I’d like to share just a few qualities we have in common. This is based on personal experience and knowledge of other creative types, not meant as some scientific or groundbreaking discovery. For the sake of needlessly using an acronym to emphasize points, I’ve used each letter in “creativity.” Creative types are

  • Curious
  • Resourceful
  • Emotional
  • Adaptable
  • Tenacious
  • Inspired
  • Varied
  • Imaginative
  • Talented
  • “You-nique.”1

  Curious. Creative types are by nature inquisitive explorers; we venture where others are not willing to go or try things others are not willing to try. When it comes to being creative, we overtly or subconsciously ask the question, “What if…?” or “Is this possible?” Creativity is not about seeing things and the world as they are, but seeing them as how they could be; it’s about considering possibilities or looking at potential. A canvas is but an unstarted painting, a sheet of paper but an unwritten poem. Curiosity is but a starting point, for while not all curious people are necessarily creative, all creative people possess some sort of curiosity within themselves. “If you have ideas, but don’t act on them, you are imaginative but not creative.” — Linda Naiman

People less inclined toward creativity may think us curiosities or just plain weird for not seeing things as they are or were; conversely, we may think non-creative people are dull or rigid for not seeing possibilities.

  Resourceful. Within the creative process, you may be restricted by resource limitations, but in creativity, the only true limit is one’s own imagination. It’s not about what you don’t have; it’s about what you do have or can access. Basic economics teaches us that resource limitations are a part of life, which means we do not always have what we need to accomplish what we want. But we work with what we have. Creative types like to find ways to get what they need by using what they have available in order to accomplish a goal. If what we have does not help us directly accomplish our goals, we like to find ways to indirectly reach them. For example, you want a new costume idea but don’t have money to afford anything, so you look in your closet and start piecing together old costume parts to modify a creation of your own design.

  Emotional. This is twofold, for it speaks of how we relate to what we do and how we relate to other people. When it comes to being creative, there is sometimes an attachment to what we design, especially when it is for whom or what we care about most. When we really get into the creative process, we may figuratively and/or literally pour our blood, sweat, and tears into whatever we are making, sometimes at the cost of basic necessities. Simply put, we can get proverbially lost in a project, but it might be how we best express who we are deep down. Whenever we design anything that requires much effort, it becomes a part of who we are; it tells others, “this is what I do because I want to” or “this is something important to me.” Think of the author who spends hours inside a room with just paper and pen, until words form sentences, characters, and worlds; these are the ones who truly understand how a story takes on a life of its own. Because what is produced is an extension of oneself, there can be an emotional attachment to the process or the end result, and in that process is found a kind of joy or happiness.

Relating to people can be different than relating to what we produce, but it is through creating we connect with other people.  When it comes to people, some creative types may seem emotionally distant on the surface, but they really do have emotions that might not always be easily expressed with physical or verbal gestures. Emotions may simply be better expressed through one’s work or even by giving one’s work freely to others. Other creative types may be more emotionally-expressive than others, lashing out and “unleashing their wrath” should their work be disrupted (or perhaps it’s an immaturity on their part), but it does not mean they only care about themselves or their work. If you don’t think they can be given to emotions, think of children who are often proud to have their “masterpieces” adorned on the fridge by their parents.2

  Adaptable. Humans have an inherent need for a sense of stability or consistency; without such things, life’s problems will overwhelm a person. However, life is all about change, for change is inevitable. The only way to survive and thrive in change is to be adaptable.

Because creative types possess a willingness to try out new ideas and methods or to explore new places, new situations do not necessarily scare or intimidate them. If forced into strange or uncertain circumstances, creative types will eventually find a way to work within the situation. Adaptability allows us to become who and what we need to be for a given situation in order to survive. Our ingenuity, which is a combination of adaptability and resourcefulness, allows us to find ways to work within new settings and thrive when resources are limited. Since we cannot always control our circumstances or have resources readily available, we learn to work where we are and with what we have in order to accomplish a goal. Of course, end results are not always as expected, but adaptability also allows us to change the goal to match available resources.

  Tenacious. It may seem counter-intuitive or contradictory, but creative types are flexible yet stubborn. While we may be willing to accept change and work within our circumstances, we are not so easily willing to give up on a project or idea, especially when so much time, energy, and/or thought processes have already been personally invested. When one method or idea does not work, there can be a willingness to try a new approach, albeit sometimes reluctantly. While there are times we want to quit, our determination may compel us to keep going toward some perceivable goal. This drive for project completion can result in sleep deprivation; we sometimes will spend countless hours trying to get “that one thing” just right.

  Inspired. While creativity does require imagination, our ideas are probably inspired more often than we pull anything from our own imaginations. Almost any idea you can think of has probably been thought of by a thousand other people who lived before you. This is why creativity does not always mean completely original and why similarities of other ideas or concepts may often be recognized in different people’s work. Being inspired is different from blatantly copying someone else’s work. Appreciation of someone else’s idea, which too may have been inspired, can be noted by the joyfully-exasperated question: “Why didn’t I think of that?” Appreciation is not to be confused with begrudging an unspoken idea being somehow stolen or that someone else beat us to the proverbial punch.

  Varied. “Variety is the spice of life.” Creative types are likely less drawn to the “same old, same old” and may become bored or uninspired doing such tedious tasks others are more comfortable doing. There is a joy found in learning or trying something new or creating something different. Creativity is also not limited to one design, one area of expertise, or one avenue of self-expression. A really creative person can produce different designs in the same area or function in different areas; in fact, some individuals may thrive better with multiple outlets of self-expression.

Additionally, the thinking of creative types is probably less linear than other people who only see results, for we might be seeing the beginning, middle, and any number of endings all at the same time. We might be considering many ways to get to a destination, noticing the details other people miss, or perhaps dreaming up ideas others can’t envision. While mechanical routines can feel boring or wearisome, the internal thought processes of the creative mind can generate excitement. Creative types may seem to lack “one-track mindedness” in some areas, coming across as less focused on the mundane or more absent-minded, mechanical processes, but they could simply be lost in their own thoughts and/or creative processes.

  Imaginative. Creativity requires imagination. Imagination is the only true limit to being creative. You will hardly lack for ideas if you possess and exercise your imagination, even if you lack the resources to accomplish your goal. An original idea may not necessarily come from one’s own imagination, but imagination is needed to put all parts together, to envision the final outcome before a project is started and as it is going. When everything is pieced together, it can result in a truly remarkable and memorable piece that started in someone’s imagination. Granted, while creativity does not always mean something completely original from start to finish, in some cases it can, yet this may be what is most considered when people say something is creative.

A huge part of who we are, imagination is a piece of our childhood we never truly gave up nor wish to give up. Side effects may include getting lost in thought easily and/or talking happily about things which might not actually exist.

  Talented.3 While anything or anyone can inspire ideas, no amount of lectures, book-reading, or knowledge increase will make someone creative. These things can and do spark creative ideas, but they do not make someone creative. Creativity cannot be taught, but it can be cultivated.  The ability to really express ourselves creatively is something we either possess or we do not, but even if we possess it, it must be cultivated to grow. Even the most creative people you know probably have works that they look back on and would disown, if not for their emotional attachment and how much they have grown since then. Once upon a time, some of us only knew how to draw stick figures or Tic-Tac-Toe boards.

  You-nique. This is the crux of creativity; it separates originality from carbon copy.  Uniqueness is the difference between making something our own and just simply imitating what someone else is doing. While similarities are normal, each person’s style, method, medium, etc. of expressing ideas is as different as the person who generates them. If two creative people are given the same assignment and tools, each could conceivably produce something completely different.

What makes someone creative? There’s not really one set thing that separates us from those around us. Creative types are curious about the world around them, and they use what they have available to make things happen. They may become attached to their designs, but they are not emotionless robots or self-centered sociopaths. They roll with the punches but do not give up easily. Their ideas are inspired by others. They like variety and may often imagine things differently than how they are. Creativity comes naturally to them, but more than anything, they are unique in how their creativity is expressed. In short, they are not all that different from less creative types; really it’s only that they engage the world that isn’t with the world that is.

I am creative, and I embrace this.

creativity


1Because why not.

2There are some drawings I did when I was a little boy, and they are in my dad’s office at home. Sometimes I see them and think, “I can’t believe he still has those things.”

3Talent is not to be confused with skill, for skill level does not necessarily negate nor confirm creative ability. One can master the mechanical, but still lack the drive to be creative.