I work in government for my day job. Lately, I have noticed a pattern. There is a distinct fear of creativity. It’s voiced in small ways, in a shirking, side-stepping, avoiding way, as though walking carefully around a flattened slug.
Creativity has no form. It’s spontaneous, springing forth from unknown places, spilling over structure, rolling down and over boundaries, and it can be contagious. For these, and many other reasons, it is a force that can scare people.
For me, as someone who has always been creative, it is oxygen. When I am with non-creatives for too long, I forget that I’m no longer breathing. The air is predictable, regulated, secure, measured. It gets hard to exhale.
I always long and wish for these kinds of workplaces to embrace more creativity–they would be such amazing institutions! Just imagine their potential! But it would take a paradigm shift of exponential proportions. Sometimes I think I should take it on, and sing my Liza Minelli lungs out, cry my Elizabeth Taylor tears, shout my Ginsberg anarchy and express authentically, what is really purcolating in my artist heart.
Maybe, just maybe, there’d be a shift out of the box. Then again, maybe then I’d just be outside the box, looking in. Either way, this creative is relieved to know which side of the wall she is on.