When we hear the word “creative” most people automatically think of the arts—musicians, painters, writers, sculptors, etc. We have all heard those who say, “I’m not creative” because they don’t feel that they have the skills or ability to create beautiful works of art or write music for symphonies or have voices capable of winning singing contests. But the reality is that if we can imagine new things, processes, systems, constructs, solutions or ideas that do not currently exist, we are creative. (Rev. Beth Long-Higgins, September 4, 2025)
What Does it Mean to Be Creative?
These words that opened this blog series and introduced our theme of “creativity” could have been uttered by me. I’ve not considered myself to be particularly creative in exactly the way Beth describes—artistic, musical, a writer that writes just for the joy of it. Oh, I’ve had hobbies and know how to do some things well, but not out of a sense of being creative.
And, as it so often goes, I was blessed with a child who was wildly creative in their thinking. Whatever the plan, this child always had a different idea. That innate ability today makes them an amazing human, always looking for creative solutions to the truly big problems of our lives. Thirty years ago, though, I was challenged by such energy.
Creativity Beyond the Arts
As a child myself I didn’t seek to learn to type as a means to becoming a creative writer and while I learned to sew from my mother (who was a professor of clothing and textiles—a true professional) I didn’t thrive in a zone of art or creative expression.
When I retired a bit more than 2 years ago, I knew this would be a season of discovery, of reordering my life, of learning about myself and new things. And I was right.
Finding Inspiration in Community
Recently I participated in a brainstorming session with a nonprofit organization on whose Board I’ve served and whose mission I heartily support. We’re preparing for a capital campaign. The coincidence of this meeting and my preparing to write this blog was fortuitous. Turns out, I’m creative after all! The energy in the room, shared by folks who all connect to this organization, but in very different ways, was truly inspiring. And each of us contributed to the conversation with passion and joy. I coined a phrase. And, drew metaphors together. And, when I left the room, I felt accomplished and worthy and joyful.
Creativity in this season may not be expressed through paint or piano, with crayons or charcoal, using fabric or fancy buttons. But, the creative process is alive. With more time, I can develop new skills as I knit (almost always using a pattern and sticking to it), in solitude I remember the true gifts of community and seek them out (around a social knitting table or in a meeting), and in completing a project I can revisit the process and see its result—a surge of creativity.
Reframing Creativity in Later Life
I’m not sure I feel like my creativity has been “ignited” as Beth encouraged, but I do know I’m looking at the creative process differently. What I gain from sharing ideas, from the community of encouragement, from the satisfaction of a finished mitten or sweater or baby blanket, and the pleasure of planning my next opportunity is one difference I sense in this season of life.
Perhaps it is trite to summon a familiar scripture passage to sum things up. But a favorite of mine comes from Ecclesiastes (3:1-8) and although it is often read at funerals and memorial services, I think these words can inspire us, whatever season of life holds us:
For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die;
a time to plant and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill and a time to heal;
a time to break down and a time to build up;
a time to weep and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn and a time to dance;
a time to throw away stones and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek and a time to lose;
a time to keep and a time to throw away;
a time to tear and a time to sew;
a time to keep silent and a time to speak;
a time to love and a time to hate;
a time for war and a time for peace.
Perhaps before it is our time to die, we might plant, and build up, dance, and laugh, embrace, and even sew with a bit more joy.
May it be so.