Create and Release

I’ve just returned from a once in a lifetime trip to Kenya, as I accompanied my photographer husband on a photo safari. I have pages of notes and themes for upcoming posts, so stay tuned to read more about this life-changing and life-affirming time.

But this morning I woke up with these thoughts in mind, and as often happens with all things creative, a detour points in a new, if temporary, direction.

Every one of us is a creator. You can argue the point, but unless you are a great king in a castle filled with attendants to do everything, even dress and bathe you, new things appear in your world at your hands. Even the great king must put words together to create a command, after all.

Perhaps you made a smoothie for breakfast, choosing which fruit and protein you would add today. Maybe you cook dinner for you and your loved ones. At the very least you have tended to and created your living space, no matter how grand or humble.

While in Kenya, I fell in love with the people of the Maasai tribe, from the first young man who served meals early on, dressed in his red shuka and adorned with beads and silver jewelry. He reminded me of a young Ru Paul. Tall and slender, graceful and beautiful. When not serving he played a flute to entertain the guests. I’ll post more about others I met and traditions of this pastoral tribe later but for now I want to describe their homes. Thin straight trees, probably acacia, form the frame, posted closely together. Insulation and protection are added in the form of cow dung plastered in and around the sticks. More dung, mud and dried grasses provide a roof.

We had the honor of entering such a home, ducking under the low, open doorway then waiting for a few minutes as our eyes adjusted to the near blackness of the interior. Two sections served as bedrooms, each containing a low bed made of straw and tanned cowhide. A hole in the wall, no bigger than four by six inches provided the only light and dare I say, breeze. A small fire burned on the dirt floor between the two rooms, one for the parents and the other for the children. A scrawny goat curled in the corner.

This was by far the most humble abode I have ever been invited to enter, so much more so than the homes carved in the mountainside of Spain by Gypsies who could create their home out of natural resources and opportunity. Both required hard work, to be sure. In the case of the Maasai homes, the women build them, working together to house the families of their community.

Creation at its most basic level; perhaps in response to Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, with physiological (shelter) forming the base. One driving through the countryside of Kenya may miss the beauty of these people unless they, too, were invited in to the close-knit community. From their shoes fashioned from tire treads and leather to the ceremonial and ornamental beaded silver jewelry, the Maasai create a community that addresses all of Maslow’s needs, even to the top of the pyramid, self-actualization.

Other than a few trinkets for sale to support their tribe, the Maasai create for creation’s sake. (I admit we did our fair share of participating, duffle bags bursting with earrings and bracelets and wood carvings.) They don’t strive to be an influencer, or to reach the pinnacle of success as we so describe and worship in our culture. To be the most, the best, the richest, the household name that fills stadiums around the world. The act of creating, for them, is a simple fact of their culture and the world in which they live.

Where are you most creative? In the garden? Decorating your home? Cooking? Writing, painting, sketching, acting, singing or doing stand-up comedy? Why do you do it? If it is for recognition and fame, you will bound to be disappointed. The numbers will never satisfy. The praise will feel empty and maybe forced. Your friends may be nothing more than fame seekers, chasing after a bit of spit-flung notoriety. Creating for the sake of influence, fame or notoriety will fall flat.

I love to cook. When I feel like it. It is one of my creative avenues, turning a random sampling of fridge and pantry items into a feast. But when the kids were growing and I had to feed them and hubby seven days a week, how I hated the drudgery and everydayness of the chore. Even the occasional, this is good, Mom, didn’t satisfy my need to create beauty. Today I can cook for cooking’s sake and be happy with my own Good Job at a task well done. Cooking is the supreme practice of create and release as the food fills our bellies on a trek to becoming nothing more than human waste.

Create and release.

What if everyone figured out how to find satisfaction in the act of creation itself, forgetting who might publish it or host it or curate it or listen or watch or laugh at our concert or show or standup routine?

That is my vision of Heaven. People free to create beauty in whatever style and medium they please. It would be a world filled with color and sound and rhythm and laughter, no evaluation or judgement needed. Imagine how this very physical planet upon which we trod would be transformed if we all created for creation’s sake. What a beautiful miracle that would be.