Creation as the base

What does it mean to create?

I think it is something I am probably misrepresenting by the same act of defining it. I still think I am doing a good job writing about it, and at the same time, I think I am creating a chasm because if you start following my words, you may lose sight that they are pointing to something that has always been there.

I have proposed some steps to create, which you can find in the Diver section of CreaTherapy. I suggest four areas to meditate on so you move between registers of your mind and allow the spontaneity of your feelings and imagination to create some shapes.

But creation is more than that, this is a simple trick to start going.

I am breaking what I am trying to create by packing it in a box. At the same time, I want to present it to you in an approachable way. For that reason, I try to propose paradoxes.

When I say move between body sensations and relationships, I jump off two different rule systems. One system trying to move into another means there is some gap there. Then, moving from relationships to imagination creates a new gap.

If we face a gap with some kindness and softness inside, something kind of shimmers inside us. I feel I can say us, and not me here, because I have guided so many clients through some steps similar to this, and it always brings something interesting.

A paradox is something that has two or more systems of rules at the same time. As Bateson explored, much of our human uniqueness revolves around paradoxes.

When we tell a joke, there is something like a superposition of systems. Two or more realities are happening simultaneously, and at some point, one of them settles, usually one we do not expect, and that makes us laugh.

We laugh in a complex situation, which means that two paradigms overlap and somehow collide inside us. I think something kind of shimmers and tickles inside in that gap.

A similar thing happens when we watch a movie. We see images that are light projected by different mediums, but usually only based on three colours. Light patterns seem to entertain us.

Why? Why do we do this extrange behaviour and stay hours before a screen?

I may argue that there is blue light or too much movement and excitement.

So, let's strip the example of sensory dimensions and move to a novel. Now, we have a story without the lights, without the excitement of sensory stimulation, and we may still spend hours looking at a page with some marks on it.

We have here a simple object, a two-dimensional page composed of a white background and some black marks. We have trained our eyes to codify those marks as symbols that, put together, become other symbols.

And we need to arrive at a point where it makes sense to cry, laugh, and dream from it.

Those marks we call words. You may be aware that there are marks you do not understand; in my case, I do not get a kanji, for instance. So there is a decoding process by lots of training to get here.

And something shimmers. Something shimmers in that page and we get into it.

I think that is a paradox, as we need more frames of reference to make sense of human engagement with culture.

Let's start from another angle. We seem to be able to follow words and their intonations and rhythms and make in our minds images of what other people say. We have enough correlation of those images to coordinate and have a mutual understanding.

We can form those images by coordinating symbols and threading stories full of effect. They narrate characters we resonate with; we imagine them as if they are us or someone close to us, and we can follow their emotional journey. We need human relationality and a resonance of human affection to follow a creative cultural space, like a novel or a movie.

Let's put this together: we need a plane of physics, of objects as some reality hardware. We need some symbols and social coordinates to make sense of cultural communication. We need an imagination to represent things in our minds. We need emotional experience and relational resonance to follow and connect.

Then, we need a safe space to engage in this out-of-the-present experience of watching a movie or reading a novel. I may be on my couch and need to be in at least three planes simultaneously, in my home and couch, an imaginary space based on a relational resonance with the piece of art/culture. I also need to keep track of all this and not mix everything up, so I need my 'front-end' self; I need the part of my mind that narrates all this as if it is normal (the imaginary of Lacan), the one that moves through a 'normal' world of social concepts.

I think this is enjoyable because of the paradox of a superposition of paradigms that shimmer between them.

When a joke does not work or a movie fails to get us, that resonance between planes collides or makes noise. If an actor feels off, if the narrative lags, if the motif is repetitive, the shimmering space necessary that overlaps paradigms dissolves into a clear answer, which is boring.

It is boring because you get out of the spell. You find yourself thinking about the actor and the company and want to write a review instead of immersing into the story.

It is sad, but sometimes, good art becomes a bit invisible. Or we forget for a few seconds that we are watching it. We forget, and then we may realise we miss it, like when we finish a series and feel a bit like we just broke up with someone, and we miss the space they had in our lives.

Then, after some time, we say, "Oh, that was so good, and all these other series seem boring at their side".

Like with love, sometimes we realise the good stuff after the fact.

I think this is because the overlapping paradigms easily create a feeling of niceness, being in the present, and being-there (as Heidegger would say).

And it is only when it settles that we are aware again of our individuality.