THE IMMORTALITY OF CREATIVITY
NOVELIST: How tragic that man can never realize how beautiful life is until he is face to face with death.
—Ikiru, 1952, Akira Kurosawa.
THERE IS BUT ONE TRULY SERIOUS FEAR, and that is death.
The rest are just trivial ramifications with which the game of life keeps us entertained. Until the alarm goes off. ‘Too soon. Too soon,’ you cry. They have programmed it without your consent. And ironically the alarm goes off to remind you what life is. Just death can tell. It whispers, ‘It’s a gift.’ And that dreadful shot to your soul happens to be an awakening experience; and perhaps from then on, there will be no embrace of comfort.
Throughout history, many thinkers and philosophers have reflected on the finiteness, the pool of emptiness in which we will undoubtedly fall in. Humans try to anesthetize the anxiety of death by having descendants. As French writer Françoise Sagan put it, ‘You wish to have a child at some point in life; perhaps to die less when you die.’
Is creativity an immortal project, too?
Everybody can be creative to begin with—Don’t let anyone fool you with the contrary—. Perhaps it’s just a matter of dropping all what you have learned in order to create something new, something that stems from your inner being. Then, the absorption, the assimilation of life leaves imprints in a form of poetry, a composition, a recipe, a way of thinking, etc.
But setting your name in lights on billboards for prosperity, does it matter much? Does it alleviate us?
Every spring a flower blooms around some bushes in a field where I go running. I don’t remember the flower’s name, but I never forget its beauty, its fragance.
Copyright © 2012 by THE PYTHAGOREAN STORYTELLER. All rights reserved.