The Creative Man
There once was a man who was born with a desire to create, to love, and to live. As a child he created, he loved, and he lived as much as he was allowed to by his parents, his teachers, and his nannies. The adult figures in his life were very encouraging, as far as adult figures go, but it was still not enough room to contain all the inspiration that poured from his soul. As a young adult he became accustomed to the ways of the world and to the demands and expectations of his particular society. He wanted to create, and tried to, but found it difficult, as if everything was working against him. He did not understand why there were so many rules and obstacles that kept him from creating as much as he would have liked. As he grew older he became increasingly more frustrated with his circumstances. Soon he was too busy to create— he needed to focus on surviving. He had a family to support, and a mortgage. It wasn’t long before he forgot what it was like to be creative at all. The suggestion of creativity began to seem silly or whimsical, and then it became threatening. For many years he kept his creative urges hidden, and became so accustomed to brushing them aside to make way for more important, useful thoughts that the creative insights eventually ceased almost completely. Though he was not consciously aware of them, these insights continued to multiply, but now they had nowhere to go. Keeping all this energy inside him took a toll on his body and mind. He became tired, angry, and depressed. By the time he was wrinkled and hunch-backed he felt he had somehow wasted his life, but couldn’t explain why. He had spent most of his life either working or sleeping, but that didn’t seem too unusual. Still, he could feel that something was missing. He wondered if he should have spent less time working. But then he thought, no, I had to work. What else could I have done?
-IAM
