Big Magic Lesson #1: It doesn't have to be me

When I was in high school, I invited friends to go sledding at a nearby hill. We had a great time for an hour or so and then came in for hot cocoa and rolls. One of my friends realized he needed to get home really soon so he ran out to his car, only to discover he no longer had his keys. They were somewhere in the snow.

The sun was beginning to set and the snow was beginning to fall. But what could we do except look for the keys? As I walked through my backyard back up to the hill, I prayed, "Please help us find his keys. Please help us find his keys."

Then I had a funny thought. "Oh, and it doesn't have to be me who finds them." Up til that moment, I had wanted to be the one to find the keys and be the hero somehow. But when I added that phrase to my prayer, it finally occurred to me was that the keys were found, not that I was the one to find them.

While the rest of the group headed to the hill to hunt, my friend and I veered off to a different section. There, she almost immediately saw a straight line in the snow. When she looked at the line, she saw it. There were his keys. It wasn't me who found them. And it didn't matter.

This incident has come to mind several times during the past few weeks. "It doesn't have to be me. It doesn't have to be me." When we all started locking down, I had the idea that maybe I could help entertain kids by making Facebook Live videos for them. But minutes into the live video I had scheduled and knew some friends would eventually start watching, I heard one of my kids fussing. I stopped the video and helped him. And then I began to cry. I just couldn't do it. I just couldn't make Facebook Live videos right then. As I cried, I felt the tears wash away the anxiety of the past two weeks -- the fears over the pandemic, the disappointment over preschool and school ending so abruptly, and the dread that any minute another larger earthquake would come. I also felt the tears wash away any desire to make another Facebook Live video, at least in the near future. I felt sad but free.

As it turned out, the Internet was saturated with plenty of wonderful resources for kids. It didn't have to be me creating them. Perhaps the call to create could come another time, but for the time being I was off the hook.

So I spent my time reading instead. I decided to finally start using my library's Overdrive system and placed holds on all the self-help books I had been mildly interested in over the years. One recent recommendation was Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert. I figured it was better to read most any book than obsessively check coronavirus stats, so I placed a hold on it too. I enjoyed the first few chapters, and then something she said stopped me in my tracks:

Ideas are alive and seek the most available human collaborator.

She told a story about an unusual story idea she worked on for a few years. After a hiatus, she found she couldn't write about it anymore. Meanwhile, another author she met began writing a story. They compared notes and discovered that they both had independently come up with the same unusual story idea. It was as if the idea had jumped from Liz Gilbert to her friend.

I gasped. It didn't have to be Liz Gilbert who wrote the story! It didn't have to be me who provided the daytime entertainment for kids! I mean, of course, if I wanted the exposure and the practice, then it did have to be me. But if I was just concerned about a good idea finding good ground, then I could rest assured that the idea wouldn't give up just because I wasn't available. It would sit there like keys in the snow, waiting for the next available person to pick them up and give them a try.

This is a strange lesson to learn about creativity -- that it doesn't ultimately depend on you to bring ideas to life. Why bother being creative if you're not the sole owner of an idea?

And yet, this is what gives us the freedom to be creative. If creativity is a friend who checks in occasionally instead of an unforgiving taskmaster, then we can trust ourselves to truly welcome inspiration when we're ready to host. Our endeavors will be filled with wonder rather than resentment. And if things don't work out, we can hope that the ideas find another new, gracious host while we prepare for the next ideas to step in.

So, it doesn't have to be me that comes up with all the great ideas.

But when it is me, it sure is wonderful.