About Rene Urbanovich

  • Member Since: March 20, 2018


Rene Urbanovich is a Humanities instructor and a Voice and Creativity teacher, holding a BA in Creativity Studies, MA in Humanities and is state certified in adult learning. Rene loves to write and can sometimes be seen writing alongside her life partner of 37 years at Mimi's Cafe on Sunday nights. Their four children, raised in the SCV, are now scattered across the globe, contributing their gifts to others via music, documentaries, activism, and comedy.

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Creativity Advocacy: Marketing, Creativity and the Cosmos

| Opinion | June 21, 2019

Since I finished writing my manuscript, “Creativity Connection Conundrum” in January 2019, I’ve been struggling with reformatting, rewriting, reprinting, marketing and re-marketing this book. It has since struck me that the process of Creativity and the process of marketing are very much alike.

According to the Chinese proverb, “Pearls don’t lie on the seashore. If you want one, you must dive for it,” Creativity warrants risk. This is expressed by many innovators, including Mark Twain, Pablo Picasso, and Steve Jobs. In deciding which road to take for marketing my self-help book, I’ve learned that while the writing itself took a good deal of risk (waking up at 5 a.m. to get 500 words in before I started my day job, gambling my sleep on this masterpiece-in-the-making), marketing too, requires some risk. One must dive into unsafe arenas, spending time, money and resources garnering a following, advertising and most vulnerably, pushing one’s original ideas. I’ve written a book all about Creativity, the powerful drive that lives within us, and our innate need to express it.

Each of us possess a Creative expression, whether it is cooking, drawing, singing, sculpting, conversing, problem-solving, writing or film-making, to name a few. I mistakenly thought that the research and writing for my book took all of my Creative energy but now that the piece is done, I’m forced to drum up even more energy to Creatively market my project. It feels a lot like the process of writing the book—it requires the same hard work, determination and belief. The hope and courage that is necessary to show up every day at the blank computer screen mimics the hope and courage necessary to post on social media, upload advertisements and send out queries. The risk is also similar in that I can’t allow negative self-talk and fear to stop me from moving forward.

The risks we take when we step outside our norm to express our Creativity feel scary. Many of us must stave off immense fear before we undertake a songwriting class or sing at a Karaoke bar. The desire to overcome our fear brings us into a relationship with our deeper self, which albeit internal, actually drives the external. Either we are driven by love or driven by fear. Someone once said that “All cats love fish but fear to wet their paws.” This reminds me of the process we must endure for any Creative work, and now post-execution, Creative reception—marketing! Marketing takes as much determination and positive self-talk as the Creation of the work itself.

To me, the most fascinating component belonging to the Creative process is the magic that appears from nowhere that ultimately serves to propel the work itself. When immersed in the moment, connecting with our work (whether it is singing, cooking or sculpting) we connect to something larger than ourselves. We feel the import of our work without question. This connection is inexplicable. Many Creative folks describe this “magic” as being a conduit for God Himself, God Herself, some universal higher power that dictates what we do and how we do it. It feels divine. I can’t say that marketing feels anything like this, but, I can correlate the relationship between me and my audience with the feeling of connecting to something beyond myself. This correlation can even be immediate, as we post our stories on Instagram, or upload our work to YouTube. It all starts with our connection with our work, which then connects us to some higher greater dynamism, then trickles out to impact others.

When we allow fear to dictate our steps, inhibiting us from interacting with Creativity and ultimately preventing us from sharing our work through marketing, we are short-circuiting the force of Creativity. The word ART means TO FIT and we are all just looking to fit into the greater whole. The cosmos is a giant, immense place that brings order to each of our individual Creations. If we start there, believing in our work, we will not allow fear to stop us from taking a risk. Creativity is for all of us, connecting us to our deeper selves and eventually connecting us to others. When choosing between the love of the fish and the fear of the wet paws, we must remind ourselves that until we dive into our Creative outlet, we will persist in our hunger and disconnection—the antithesis of the mission of Creativity.

Creativity Advocacy – Tribute to Father’s Day

| Opinion | June 6, 2019

I got married at 20 years old to a young man who just couldn’t wait to be a dad. I helped him fulfill his grandest dream four times over. Jimmy would have sired six children, but I copped out at four, feeling that was more than enough. He was a fun dad, indeed. He brought our kids up laughing. Who’s to say what planted this seed in us—to want to be parents? Times are different now—it seems buying houses, raising children and opening bank accounts have been outdone by traversing the globe, experiencing cultures, and cultivating a deep spirituality. Parenting young is an old trend. That’s fine. I get it. It feels confining. Uncreative. You’re locked into a lifestyle at 20 years old with fewer options than if you’d chosen to be a free spirit on the road to “finding yourself.”

It sure sounds more expansive to spend your twenties doing college, grad school, hitch-hiking across Ireland or backpacking through the Himalayas rather than “settling down.” Postponing parenting can’t hurt; some of the best parents I know waited years longer than we did to become pregnant. But if self-development and deep spirituality is one of wanderlusts’ goals, I’d say parenting accomplishes both, hands down. Parenting stretches a person beyond what they can imagine. Jimmy and I would tell anyone who asked how raising kids forced us to not only expand our Creativity, but to also travel outside of ourselves, our personal needs and wants.

I can think of very little that is more transformative than the act of raising children. The moment an infant takes her first breath, instantaneously, both father and mother are exponentially changed. Science tells us that in men, the primary adaptation while nurturing their young is the shift between left brain and right brain function. Our individual Creativity derives from the same right brain function, which means the act of parenting actually serves to foster Creativity! Interestingly, the changes that occur in parents seem to align with the great tenets of most religions. What Jimmy and I couldn’t know in our early twenties was that this act of parenting would become our path to enlightenment.

Take patience, for example. One can read about being patient from a book or one can practice patience with a screeching infant in the wee hours of the night. One can meditate upon becoming more compassionate or one can experience compassion while soothing a teenager’s broken heart. Eating the burnt toast is the epitome of selfless behavior, as is pretending to enjoy ten rounds of Candyland. Trusting in the cosmos if you’ve ever had a child is a completely separate form of trust and involves a faith that moves mountains. Suffering, too, as is found in Buddhist and Catholic teachings, can bring redemption, and most parents have had their share of suffering in ER rooms or maybe even in just one more game of catch with a 10-year-old after having put in an 80-hour work week. When the kids are finally grown and gone, there is the lesson of letting go, which may or may not feel like a reward for a job well done, depending on how the children manage to launch. Fathers (as well as mothers) go through as many changes as the developing child, and this season can feel like an 18-year-long church retreat—with ups and downs, lack of sleep and less than desirable culinary choices.

Parenting proves to be a way to grow, to change and to gain many of the qualities sought after by the great mystics, gurus, church fathers and mothers. As we lose ourselves in parenting, we find ourselves. Father’s Day is a time to reflect on the transformation within us, appreciating all of the Creative ways in which we’ve grown.

Creativity Advocacy – Creativity and Mother’s Day

| Community | May 23, 2019

Creativity expressed through childbirth reveals the nature of Creativity in its purest form. Human beings have been reproducing for millennia, yet not one child has ever managed to exactly mimic another, not in thoughts, or genes, or mannerisms, or feelings, or life experience. Most parents find it amazing that their children are so diverse in spite of the fact that they derived from the same DNA pool. This is novelty at its best! The formula for making babies has been simple, unchanged, untampered with. That there is no end to this resource of Creativity suggests that there is also no end to the inventions and artistry that we Create. As a species, we continually master our Creativity through the cycle of life itself.

Scientists can pinpoint the moment an embryo’s fingernails sprout; ultrasound can observe the twitch of an eyelash; scales can measure the intake of nutrients to the newborn’s body; genes can be split to the chromosome and analyzed down to the molecule, but no one can explain the life force itself. Similarly, experts on Creativity can research the artists, interview the scientists, run brain scans on highly productive creatives, trace childhood histories, but no one can reach into the depth of what Jung calls the collective unconscious and determine its make-up or discern the Might which incites Creation. It is as profound as childbirth, an activity which once we are fully engaged in, eliminates our own will, providing a channel, like the birthing canal, for an idea to emerge, for insight to inspire, for beauty to be felt.

Once I experienced the overwhelming phenomenon called motherhood, I felt a deep satisfaction with my life. I had to wade through 13 daily dirty diapers and dustpans full of cheerios to find it, but contentment breathed in between the stacks of dishes and layers of snot. My crazy aspirations for artistic productivity seemed to disappear as each day managed to offer a fulfillment of its own. It’s as if I was content to connect with a higher Creativity, and abide in the kind of significance that reaches beyond time, generations, cultures, symbols.

When appreciating a great work of art, or piece of literature, one must take into account the historical references and cultural metaphors in order to properly interpret the work. But everyone recognizes the divinity of a baby and everyone reaches out in the supermarket or at the park to reflect on and recommence with that which has gotten lost in the shuffle of adult life. Babies, toddlers and children follow the heartbeat of Creativity—the imagination, and it isn’t until they grow up that they replace it with logic, systemized thinking, and safety. Only brave creative spirits break through the adult bondage of society’s sleepy train-rides to pioneer their own way. But babies remind us of what we once were, each one of us, and their slobbery reminiscence comforts us in the world of reason and daily grind, confirming that at our very core, our essence, we are them. If we don’t have the courage to become artists, or inventors, or writers, we can bear children. We can experience the enormity of inspiration and the grandest level of Creativity, and so we do.

Immediately following my fourth child’s first birthday, which punctuated the flow of my creative juices by way of human reproduction, I went out and bought a potter’s wheel.

“Why?” my partner inquired, lugging the enormous kick wheel from the truck with the help of two men. “You’ve never done ceramics a day in your life!”

“They gave me a good deal.” I justified. “And they threw in the kiln for fifty bucks.”

It was just my way of keeping the channel open.

~An exceprt from Maternallyours, a boutique book for Mother’s Day

Creativity Advocacy – The Power of Performance

| Community | May 9, 2019

The last week of April and first week of May proved to be yet another exciting stint of arts-immersion for me. High School Musical at GVHS, Mamma Mia! at SHS, Bright Star at COC and Hair at VHS. Although exhausted from running all over town, I’m equally inspired and filled with pride. My students made me laugh and cry, playing the lead characters in every single show—my heart burst with appreciation and awe at their hard work, unique talent and skills. This might appear to be the end goal as a mentor and teacher—to watch them perform the specific role that they managed to land due to their unique abilities and my expert guidance. It could feel like the perfect fulfillment of our learning goals. But, as I walk through the parking lot wiping my eyes with Kleenex, I remind myself that it’s not why I teach. Sure, these nights make me feel as though I’ve died and gone to heaven, but when all is said and done, well, all is said and done. The audience will go home, the staff will strike the set, the cast will disperse. All that work—gone.

I spend every day working with singers—repeating those quintessential “la-la-la-la” vocal drills, executing riffs, licks and trills, huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf for correct breath control, prepping them for auditions, navigating nerves and impressing upon them the importance of passion and love (and not to mention reaching those high notes without hurting their delicate instruments). Even though I spend every day focusing on the execution of proper singing tones with my students in the hopes that they’ll land that lead in their respective productions, and that they’ll make it through the three or four nights without losing their voices, that’s not the end product.

My work with these students begins with building confidence and skill, yes, but my dedication comes from a deeper place than just competing for that six-night-run, showing off vocal prowess and acting chops. Ultimately, I am part of something much larger than supporting the talent of Santa Clarita. I am a small part of a greater whole—hopefully contributing my good juju for the betterment of humankind. Does this sound like self-aggrandizement? A puffed-up version of my job to offer me some sort of importance?

The performing arts are live—not digital, not filmed. The moment cannot be relived or recycled. While a particular musical may begin and then end, the power of the theatre reaches beyond the short-lived performance. We realize we are not alone in the good and bad experiences of our lives and that others share the same despair and the same joy; the same confusion and loss; the same discovery and love. There is an exchange that flows through the theatre, between performer and audience; one that connects us and transforms us. Musical theater is powerful—the shared experience is palpable. This linking of our minds in unison functions to help us transcend our daily existence. We are not only connected with the actors, musicians and audience members but with the fictional characters, the era of the piece, the composers and writers. Live theatre can have a lasting effect upon our individual lives.

Without skilled singers, directors and actors, this impact may not be felt by theater-goers. Without the hard work and dedication of memorizing, rehearsing, vocalizing, exercising and meditating, the shared experience would be an awkward recital at best. When my students hit their mark on stage, they are fulfilling the function of Creativity itself—bringing us together and connecting us with our humanity.

Creativity Advocacy – Creative Instinct—Then and Now

| Community | April 26, 2019

My partner, Jimmy, and I met some friends at Gaviota campground last weekend. We climbed rocks together, partook in frying veggies in the fire pit, and braved the colder-than-anticipated torturous winds in our tiny polyester tents. Without the comforts afforded by the four walls of home and a gas-lighting stove, I couldn’t help but picture my ancestors, how they managed to cook-out all of their meals and brave such terrifying winds. Plus, I was freezing! I imagined them much like Jimmy and I, huddled together just to keep warm!

This got me thinking about humanity and our instinct to Create. I mused over how our species’ Creative problem-solving skills might’ve been applied to hauling water or crushing berries. These Creative instincts were in place to keep us alive—we needed to employ our innate Creativity to design shelter and make food supplies. This type of innovation has played a gigantic role in propelling humankind from our wild cave days to an even wilder technological age. Now that our Creative endeavors expand to outer space and delve into artificial intelligence, I wonder if our inherent Creativity might still serve the same function, even though it has developed into something far beyond survival.

Human Creativity must be hard-wired into our DNA for a powerful purpose.

Today’s Creative inventions and discoveries are founded on the heels of the Creative insights that came before us. Experts call this “accretion.”  For example, the World Wide Web would not have been conceived by Tim Berners-Lee were it not for the accumulation of ideas from his computer science predecessors. On a smaller scale and more personal realm, recipes can be passed down from generation to generation without repeating culinary history, or as the adage goes, “reinventing the wheel.” All of this Creativity is contingent on our species’ past, which impacts our present and paves the way for our future. Nothing is isolate.

It seems fitting that the function of Creative activity would be the same now as it was in prehistoric days. Creativity originally functioned to keep the human race alive, which, for all intents and purposes, had to be done collectively. It’s difficult to conceive how we used to literally need each other to survive. A human could not live outside the tribe. While shivering next to my partner, I felt awestruck over this seemingly lost truth. Community was a true necessity—not to offer us a sense of belonging, but to protect from predators and help withstand the ferociousness of weather.

Creativity that once manifested in the fulfillment of our physical needs has been replaced by Creativity exhibited in scientific advances or billion-dollar block busters. Ironically, now that most of our survival needs are met here in the global north, we appear to need one another less (or less urgently), that is, until one finds oneself without the conveniences of home, freezing one’s toes off in a $50 tent from Big 5.

Today, Creative acts endure for the same purpose—to keep us together, to continually connect us. The most fulfilling way we can relate to one another, in person or online, is through Creative acts. There exists a myriad of Creative expressions that support this idea, such as the togetherness experienced while dancing at Coachella, or the unity from singing in church or the shared laughter during a set at The Comedy Store.

Creativity was necessary in order for humankind to survive and remains necessary for us to thrive. What has always linked and united us will continue to draw us together—connecting us to those who came before us and even to those who are yet to be born, a profound reminder well-worth a sleepless night by the ocean.

Creativity Advocacy – Creativity and the Weather

| Opinion | April 5, 2019

It seems as though Mother Nature has been a bit bi-polar lately. Hot one day—cold the next. She can’t make up her mind whether to shine the sun or sprinkle the sage. We So-Cal natives aren’t used to carrying umbrellas, so these weather changes force us to change the way we commute, conduct our exercise and care for our gardens. We aren’t accustomed to factoring in the weather when we make our daily plans. It’s a new way of being.

This new way of being could be the correlation I use to remind readers that Creativity is a force that promotes the novel, the innovative, the new. But that’s not where I’m going. Not today.

Creativity is indeed found in nature, in the seasons when leaves bequeath to the earth during autumn, in the death and resurrection of crops, in the stunning colors of the infamous poppies all across the California landscape. It’s a beautiful thing when tourists flock to witness the bright blossoms spreading for miles across the used-to-be-barren landscape.

But beyond this, the weather highlights the component of Creativity that’s most important to me. Creativity is what brings us, as humans, together. Films, concerts, architecture, literature, dances—even a delicious family dinner—these Creative acts function to bring folks together and build community. Creative acts unify us. Creativity connects us. We can relate to one another’s suffering and joy through story; we can laugh together at a comedy club; we can resonate with the bass guitar at a local gig.

When the weather shifts from winter to spring (then back again if we use 2019 as our gauge) it brings us out of the house and connects us. Neighbors discuss the weather on the streets, at the grocery store and on social media. In the Pacific Northwest, weather is a subject of conversation all year round because it’s so rainy most days that Pacific-Northwesterners bond out of necessity. Alaskans, too, are forced to unite and support one another, even complete strangers, because for many months of the year it’s so dark they must rely on human companionship (and the occasional light-box to stave off seasonal-affective-disorder).

In addition to connecting people through conversation or through shoveling snow, the weather connects us to nature, especially when contending with extremes. We have no choice but to honor her mighty power when temperatures drop so low that leaving the house might threaten our survival. As a California native, I’ve lived my life with little consideration for weather except in extreme heat (thank the gods for air-conditioning!) Imagine, there was a time in history when our species relied on stars for direction and plants for medicine. Migration revolved around weather patterns! The sun was a technology used to schedule work, play, sleep. These days, we tend to rely more upon TV forecasts for weather, palm-held devices for scheduling and synthetic means for health. Inclement weather reminds us of our deep connection to nature.

Not only does nature impact us but we impact nature. It’s reciprocal, symbiotic.

Nothing is isolated.
When and if we collectively overlook our deep connection to nature, we potentially hurt nature. Since our technologies are proven to be damaging to the planet, we must readjust our practices to honor nature. The notion that climate change is responsible for our fickle weather is a conversation worth having. We will need to use our Creativity to brainstorm and implement solutions to oil drilling, plastics and factory farming sooner than later if our planet is to recover.

Changing weather can activate our Creativity as we shift our routines and then gather to talk about it. Viewing life through the lens of Creativity will help connect us to each other and the world around us. Awareness is the beginning of any cultural shift and Creativity is what will dictate innovation under the umbrella of the interconnectedness of all things.

Creativity Advocacy – Creativity and ‘Marriage’

| Opinion | March 14, 2019

My significant other and I celebrated 34 years together on February 1. Jimmy and I began as childhood sweethearts, raised four kids and are now on our way into the dessert stage of this complex relationship—the union that many people call marriage, but we call life partnership.

Whenever we hear the Dire Straits song, “Why Worry,” we both choke up because this tune has played as the main soundtrack behind our many courses together. On one hand, time is what has managed to sift out much of the distasteful elements of our matrimony and, on the other hand, time has also managed to fortify us. It seems as though time itself is a staple, a component behind our longevity—which might seem redundant—the longer you stay together, the longer you stay together. Maybe that’s true. But how to actually do that is the tricky part. When I take a step back and respond to those familiar questions, “How do you do it? What’s the secret?” the answer tends to come through the filter of Creativity. (Shocker!)

At first glance, it would be easy to discount the Creativity that goes into a thriving relationship. Most of us are conditioned to acknowledge and recognize the Creative efforts behind sculptures, photography and screenplays. But when you boil it down, long-term relationships require just as much Creativity as The Marriage of Figaro or the Harry Potter series. But could the Creativity necessary for human interaction be a different type than the Creativity required for the Sistine Chapel?

I think not.

As a matter of fact, when architects sat down to plan out the infamous gothic stained-glass windows and vaulted ceilings to be covered in Michelangelo’s elaborate mural, they employed the same force necessary to manage a serious relationship. The fundamental elements of Creativity are innovation, transformation, and connection. Only the building skills needed to execute such an iconic architectural masterpiece are different than the communication skills required for a healthy, functional and more-often-than-not happy partnership.

When something new or novel is introduced into culture, especially if it is useful, it is endorsed as Creative. We see this with new medicines, new technology or an original series on HBO. How does this apply to a marriage or a relationship?

In order for relationships to thrive, we must invent new ways of dealing with old issues, even when starting over with a new partner seems a viable option—something that 60 percent of us do (which can be considered novel, too!). However, long-held patterns that are hard to break warrant new ways of thinking and new ways of being together. Building the Sistine Chapel actually sounds easier than revamping reactionary habits and re-negotiating emotional triggers but, nevertheless, can be done. This Creative juice is nothing new; it’s part of our humanity and always has been. Newness keeps a marriage from going stale and becoming useless.

Creative acts also transform culture, like Benjamin Franklin’s contribution of electricity changed society forever; or like Banksy’s graffiti art transforms mindsets that promote capitalism. In relationships, our Creative efforts transform not only our interpersonal communication but our feelings for one another. When one partner redirects his/her frustration and begins to brainstorm solutions instead of hurling accusations, it transforms the relationship by making a safe place to build trust and then cultivates warm feelings of affection (rather than promoting defensiveness). The transformation isn’t a one-time experience, but an ongoing cycle, like the seasons. Creativity is not stagnant in nature, nor in healthy partnerships. With all this transformation and change in a relationship, it can always be something new!

Finally, the crux of Creativity is connection. The function of all Creative acts is to connect us as a species. Music brings us together; beautiful structures are where we congregate; storytelling through literature and film helps us to relate to one another. Creative acts in relationships are no different. When we write the recipe for a fulfilling relationship, Creativity must be the main ingredient. How to execute that Creativity may differ with each couple, as in expectation, communication style, etc., but the end goal is an intimate companionship so robust that the disconnect in our personal lives doesn’t spill out into society. When we are more deeply connected to our life-partners, we have more to contribute to the collective because we spend less time and money mopping up and dividing up. Our healthy connections are what enable us to impact the world around us in a beneficial way. That’s how we can savor the song “Why Worry,” even if it’s been played and replayed since 1985.

Baby, I see this world has made you sad
Some people can be bad
The things they do, the things they say
But baby, I’ll wipe away those bitter tears
I’ll chase away those restless fears
And turn your blue skies into gray
Why worry now
Baby, when I get down I turn to you
And you make sense of what I do
And though it isn’t hard to say
Why worry
There should be laughter after pain
There should be sunshine after rain
These things have always been the same
So why worry now

Creativity Advocacy – Creativity and RBG

| Community | February 22, 2019

Three weeks ago, like many other pseudo-feminists around me, my friend Andrea and I jumped in the car, braved a horrendous rainstorm and drove the 30 miles to see the movie released in December of 2018, “On the Basis of Sex,” showcasing the early era of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Supreme Court Justice since 1993. Serendipitously, the “RBG” documentary hit theaters just months prior in May of the same year, so I watched that via Amazon on our big screen at home with my partner, Jimmy. I marveled at the synchronicity of two similar films having been created and released in the same year. Ginsburg has been active for half a century as a lawyer, judge and game-changer, so these movies could easily have been produced any number of decades ago. But they didn’t. They happened now, nearly simultaneously.

As a Creativity Advocate and enthusiast, I always find it germane when artists slap culture in the face with similar stories. I remember Babe and Gordy coming out together when my kids were young, as well as A Bug’s Life and Ants. But there were also mainstream movies like Armageddon and Deep Impact, The Prestige and The Illusionist whose plots seemed to be mysteriously expressing the same themes. With Hollywood movies, sometimes it can be attributed to the “buzz” in the industry, but even with this factor, it takes years to write a screenplay, raise funds, cast, travel, film, edit and distribute a piece. To me, this synchronicity is important because it points to some sort of collective movement that helps the human race evolve. But that’s just me.

Beyond the coincidental timeliness of these RBG movies, however, I also really appreciated how both filmmakers framed Ruth Bader Ginsburg in a similar light, with identical honor. In spite of the fact that one was a dramatization and the other a documentary, the message carried the same profound punch. Ruth Bader Ginsburg was quite the badass.

The writer (Daniel Stiepelman) and the filmmakers (Julie Cohen and Betsy West) highlighted more than RBG’s badassery. They showcased the powerful phenomenon of Creativity at work in her. While most people might assume the inherent Creativity of a writer or an artist behind a work, I actually focused more on RBG’s Creativity than the artists’ who depicted her. I was more interested in the type of Creativity often overlooked by the Golden Globes, the Oscars, the Grammys, the Emmys, etc.

Creativity is the force behind Ginsburg’s efforts at winning court cases and tirelessly pushing for law changes. For example, according to “On the Basis of Sex,” Ginsburg, an activist for women’s rights, chose to represent a man whose rights were stripped away, instead of a woman. This approach is a brilliant example of Creative problem-solving, but it also helped to promote equality during an era when men felt extremely threatened by women’s rights. When the opposition tried to overwhelm her team with a truckload of hundreds of cases yet to fight, she figured out a way to use it to her team’s advantage instead. She was able to invert the destructive into the constructive, fulfilling yet another mission of Creativity.

Theoretically, Creative acts derive from an individual’s divergent and convergent thinking skills, which clearly Ginsburg had plenty of. Creative acts start in an individual and then affect society. In the case of gender equality, her Creative acts literally transformed culture, and ultimately promoted unity.

As Jimmy pointed out to me after we watched the documentary: “One of the most profound components of Ginsburg’s work was her ability to be close friends with Judge Scalia, who held opposing political viewpoints.” He pointed out to me how one’s relationships on the micro need not be affected by one’s viewpoints regarding the macro. This type of connectivity is fueled by Creativity, but hard to do without a little love.

At this time in history, biographies and documentaries seem to be guiding us into a more “wholistic” view of humankind and hopefully, with more and more folks flocking to their local theater and curling up to their Netflix streams, the collective will catch on as Creativity continues to lead the way.

Creativity Advocacy – Creativity Connection Conundrum

| Community | February 7, 2019

As a voice teacher, I work with my students to connect our different tones in order to sound fluid. We try to connect with the material we are singing. We connect with the audience when we perform live and also when we promote on social media. It could be said that these connections are constant in almost any art form and in a myriad of jobs.

We need the connection that comes from Creativity to function as humans.

Looking back over all of the Creativity Advocacy articles from this past year, it appears that Creativity is everywhere, all the time. We employ Creativity when we make art or when we solve problems. We touch the sacred source of Creativity when we connect with others. Life itself is Creative, and ironically, so is death. But the recurring theme woven throughout all of last year’s articles seems to be connection. The mission of Creativity is to connect us—first to our inner selves and then to the world—ultimately, to each other.

Often, and in fact currently, certain political agendas tend to disconnect us. Not only that, but misconceptions can sever our togetherness when it comes to our art. Creativity cannot fulfill the ultimate mission of connection when we are ill-informed or when we are disillusioned. Sadly, social media helps with these delusions. I have found many artists who are frustrated because they’re not making money off of their art and music. I have also met many people who don’t believe in Creativity because they’ve lost their relationship with their art. I call this a conundrum.

Over the past three years, I’ve been working on a book that delves into what Creativity is and what Creativity is NOT. The book explores the origins of Creativity as well as the purpose of all our interactions having to do with this powerful phenomenon. There’s also a chapter that offers suggestions on how to prevent social media from being a major malefactor of Creativity. A better understanding of Creativity directly contributes to our happiness and our fulfillment, which makes this book relevant for anyone desiring to live an intentional and fulfilled life.

If you’ve become more aware of Creativity’s presence in your life through these articles, I hope you’ll delve even deeper and preorder the book: The Creativity Connection Conundrum. You can email me at reneurbanovich@gmail.com.

Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 3:

American Idol, the show that premiered in 2002, has been very good for my business. I wonder if my phone would be ringing off the hook were it not for our recent obsession with talent shows. The debut season featured young Kelly Clarkson and audiences rooted for this small-town girl who’d received no training, had no familial support, no manager or agent—and their votes would transform her life in a moment. Her performance reflected innocent aspiration and raw talent. The collective voice of the dreamer was heard through Kelly Clarkson and overnight, American Idol changed the way we viewed stardom. Idol status could now be attained by the girl next door. If American Idol chose ten out of ten-thousand singers to make it to round two (odds that appear better than the one-in-a-million picks from a slush pile at a record label), then some wannabe pop singer from Paw Paw, Michigan with no financing and no business savvy might just stand a chance at stardom. This prospect would mean contestant hopefuls sleeping on the concrete outside hundred-thousand-seat stadiums while waiting in line for the first round of auditions, but if doing so was the new definition of “pounding the pavement,” it was a small price to pay. Being discovered had been “a thing” for decades, only now a television show would light the way.

Aside from Kelly’s talent, it was her charm and vulnerability that won over the masses. Text-messaging a vote to studio executives renovated the idea of audience participation. The observers could now be active rather than passive, as though 1950’s applause meters were installed in living rooms across America. Applause has been a form of power in most cultures dating as far back as Aristotle’s time. When popularity itself was under the scrutiny of the court, conventional wisdom cautioned against garnering support from the lowest common denominator of humanity. No such wariness now. In 2019, in place of slapping our palms, we have finger taps and ticks to gauge our reactions, and there’s no dispute that those thumbs-up “like” icons are what it’s all about.

Click! Next-scene: The X-Factor, America’s Got Talent, Dancing with the Stars—yet more yellow brick roads paved for promising starlets. I live in the heart of the entertainment industry, surrounded by actors, singers, writers, and producers. It can appear that life is one never-ending promotional hype in which everyone’s happiness hinges on the likes and shares of others. Every day, ritually, we count followers and build tribes. We re-tweet, snap and #hashtag before even visiting the toilet or brushing our teeth. Audience reaction has become a preoccupation over true artistic sensibilities. Some of my students excel in the social marketing arena more so than the talent arena, but are met with the most popularity because of their online appeal and dedication to fans. She who markets best wins?

Creativity Advocacy – To Toss, or Not to Toss?

| Community | January 25, 2019

Last week, after cleaning out our house of thirty years, we loaded up the truck and made a visit to the Goodwill. I shouldn’t have been surprised by the long line of cars in front of me, since it was January and most people begin the New Year with a good purge. I also should not have been surprised that there before us lay an enormous mound of couches, dressers, desk chairs, bags of clothes and toys. Rain had been pouring on and off for days, which soaked this expansive pile as well as the workers.

Yikes, I thought, what a mess!

My house looked like a similar mess, truth be told. The contents of every closet, every trunk, every cupboard and drawer seemed to have been upchucked into the living room with no rhyme or reason. We mulled through keepsakes and photos, children’s finger-paintings and a half–century’s worth of birthday cards. Which mementos should be kept for another ten years? Which should be tossed?

Suggestions ran the gamut from each of my millennial children—1) take a picture of each item and save it in the cloud so it doesn’t take up valuable real estate 2) rate each item by the joy sparked from feeling it in your hands, then only save those that rank highest
3) toss everything; nothing matters and 4) buy new trunks and make room for more!

The words of Shakespeare via the overly romantic Juliet, “Parting is such sweet sorrow…” come to mind. But the sweet becomes bittersweet when I know I may never again even remotely remember the pieces before me. My memory is limited, after all. Indeed, that there is a word for feeling good and bad at the same time offers me relief that I am not alone (like the line at the Goodwill).

Naturally, I am well aware that this act of reflection is highly Creative, because I deem myself a Creativity expert! Going through old photos and diaries connects me with my past. Reflection is the final stage in the Creative process, and one that is overlooked much of the time. By connecting with our past and thus our inner realm, we are engaging Creativity, ultimately bringing depth and meaning to our daily life instead of operating on a superficial level. We learn from our reflections, too, which help us in our self-development (and yes, I’m still self-developing in my mid-fifties). All of this Creative activity whilst cleaning up a huge mess is overwhelming.

There is an old saying that requires a hand motion. If I make a fist and hold it tightly, I cannot open my hand and receive anything new. There’s a funky play on opposites at hand (no pun intended).

Holding on and letting go mirror the idea of the word bittersweet. Married opposites.

Opposites are everywhere in art, Creativity and life! Heraclitus, the great Greek philosopher, suggests “harmony consists of opposing tension like that of the bow and the lyre.” The tension between opposites seems to actuate us—even though these tug-of-wars are unseen, hidden, they often drive the world of the seen.

So, for me, I had to 1) destroy the house before I could organize it. 2) emotionally re-connect with some items before I could disconnect myself from them.
3) save some mementos via digital photography so that I could release them to the trash. 4) drive to Fillmore to buy more trunks for whatever is coming next.

The bittersweet nature of life with all of its changes is nothing new. I realize that I’m a part of something greater than that of my little daily life, as is evidenced by the myriad of people and their trunk loads full of donations. The unity of opposites is an activating force and helps me feel less overwhelmed by the mess I seemed to have made.

Incidentally, after my drop-off, I parked and then scoped the inside of the store, scoring a perfect black bookshelf for my studio. Someone else’s discard became my treasure.

Creativity Advocacy – Creativity and Giving

| Community | December 20, 2018

We are smack in the middle of the holiday season, in which culture imposes the act of giving on just about everyone, everywhere. Advertisers, corporations, businesses, and banks drive the gift-giving bandwagon for profit via friends, families, colleagues and neighbors. The frenzy of shopping, purchasing, crafting and wrapping is upon us, whether we want to participate or not. There’s no “opt-out” button, unless you decide on a lengthy December cruise or take up Scrooge-esque habits, unbefitting of most Santa Clarita folks just trying to get by.

All of this “giving” can actually give us stress, splitting headaches and an excuse to pour more eggnog at the end of the day. A poll taken just last year found that “braving the shops” at Christmas time raises blood pressure. This same poll also identifies the panic of what gifts to buy (16 percent) and the cost of Christmas (12 percent) as triggers that can cause stress. Everyone knows high blood pressure and stress are bad for the heart.

Can this be good for us as individuals and for culture at large?

Gift-giving traditions have been going on since the Roman era during the holiday called Saturnalia, then later adopted by the newly popular Christianity. Hanukkah, or the “Festival of Lights” with eight days of gift exchanges, gained more regard in the early 1920’s. Kwanzaa came along in the sixties to honor unity and Creativity through the practice of giving gifts.

The pressure for presents is nothing new.

I often wonder what might happen if the deluge of presents and mass consumption were non-compulsory (or at least less-compulsory). Would there be peace on earth? Would there be peace in the Best Buy parking lot and would weary UPS drivers suddenly be able to curl up for long winter’s naps like the poetic tale suggests? Would giving even be a once-per-year thing?
The word “giving” naturally implies volition on the part of the giver.  Forced giving would be considered obligatory, which may appear at first glance, counterproductive. Do we give gifts out of our independent free will, or do we fulfill what society requires? Do we clunk along and follow cultural norms with no reflection whatsoever, or do we stop and consider why we do what we do?

A Creative approach to giving will begin with self-reflection. We can check in with our mood, connecting with our internal realm. We may feel stress, but then again, we may feel a flood of happiness while watching our loved ones tear open a package and tear up at the sight of their long-awaited puppy or favorite doll. This experience of utter joy is not just an intangible feeling in our hearts, but can also be physically tracked in our brains.

Neuroscience has proven that giving to others actually produces happy hormones. It releases a rush of oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin—all chemicals that make us blissful.
With this in mind, giving to others produces happiness and is actually good for our hearts, not bad. It isn’t necessarily a selfless act, and doesn’t need to tax our bodies.

To me, it seems fitting and somewhat harmonious that giving has a built-in reward for the giver—a reciprocation that relies on our mirror neurons and generates empathy. Ultimately, this activity bonds families and profits all of humanity.

Giving fulfills the mission of Creativity—to connect us as humans. So, even compulsory giving can be a powerful tool of Creativity. Perhaps utilizing this tool more than once a year is a good thing for the species. We don’t have to depend on corporate, mass-produced items, either. We can give of ourselves, with smiles and service. We just have to force ourselves to be Creative with our giving so our stress can stay down and our joy can increase.

Creativity Advocacy: Creativity and Festivity

| Gazette | November 29, 2018

Okay, the wrinkled and rancid pumpkins from Halloween are in the trash. The Thanksgiving platters are shiny clean. Another holiday is on the horizon, and I’m already zapped! Since about sixteen days ago, the sun started disappearing surprisingly too early and coffee doesn’t quite do the trick. My get-up-and-go has up and gone.

And it’s not just me, either. My sister and my friends are feeling the same way. Mustering up the energy for feasts and celebrations, not to mention crafting and decorating, cooking and wrapping seems trickier than usual. I, of course, feel the need to run every experience through the filter of Creativity to uncover the root cause of our collective lethargy. What’s going on here?

It would be easy to blame commercialism and financial burden for our malaise, because so much of what goes into the holiday season is external: running around from store to store, biting our tongue in parking lots, waiting in long lines at the post office, cooking, cleaning, and cleaning some more. Everyone has silently agreed to this contract with Christmas and Hanukkah.

It goes without saying that our stress levels will go up, while our bank accounts go down. The average family will spend close to $1,000 on gifts, and that isn’t counting feast preparations. If we can then manage to avert a mean flu bug whilst managing holiday cheer, well then, we belong to the lucky ones. All of this mayhem sounds uncreative and draining, even irritating, to be fair.

Learning how to manage our to-do lists is nothing new. But from where I sit, it can turn out to be a Creativity Fest if we choose to approach it from a Creative perspective.

There’s the problem-solving component to Creativity that helps our brains grow—each time we must shift our proposed budget, or switch our gift exchanges mid-wrapping! There’s also a puzzle to be completed with the ordering of 12 days’ worth of gifts.

There’s the divergent thinking component—where we make long lists to Santa or devise long lists as Santa’s elves that we later pare down with our convergent thinking skills.

There’s the kitchen component, where we use our five senses to mix, chop, bake, sauté and cook our traditional recipes that connect us not only with the earth—think orange sweet potatoes, blood-red oranges, bright green beans, summer yellow squash, cinnamon-scented cider – but also with our culture, our ancestors, our family members. Meals that have been circulating throughout one’s lineage for years are sometimes the only connection to the past that we have left.

There’s the artsy component, where many of us participate in artistic endeavors that we normally would not, such as: theatrics at church, singing songs at synagogue, congregating around the piano in harmony, and assembling colorful wreaths.

There’s the reflection component of Creativity, where we dig out the ancient address book and handwritten Christmas cards, causing us to reflect on everyone we know or have known, and wish them a Happy Holiday.

Creative acts help to connect us with our internal realm. Even the demanding nature of the holiday season is not without a deeper message for us as individuals and as a society. When we attach to the internal, it will make the external that much more meaningful.

Since Creativity is the phenomenon that connects us as a species, it is the very same phenomenon that is behind our efforts at party-throwing and family gatherings. Our need for connection is part of what makes us human. The holidays can be a perfect opportunity to exercise our Creativity, ultimately connecting us to our internal realm and with one another.

Creativity Advocacy – Creativity and Chaos

| Community | November 16, 2018

October was quite a chaotic month for me and my family. My daughter’s wedding was in the works, so we housed over 25 guests, set up and tore down an ambitious event in wine country, cooked, cleaned, toured the Hollywood sign and visited the Walk of Fame. If my neighbors were attempting to keep track, they probably couldn’t make much sense of all of the rented vans and trucks. It appeared to be utter chaos. And it sure did feel like things were out of control. After all, it’s impossible to control much of anything when there are so many moving parts.

Truth be told, at the time, I couldn’t catch my breath.

One by one, though, our houseguests flew back across the pond, and things are finally returning to their usual state. My washing machine is on hiatus and the recycle bin is empty after hordes of bottles and cans had filled it throughout all of the festivities. October is over! Routine is slipping in little by little, silently, but not unnoticed.

Now that my heart rate is returning to normal, I am able to reflect on all of the mayhem—the many trips to LAX and Trader Joe’s, the random mismatched pillowcases and strewn coffee cups; the countless grins and smiling faces, British accents (my daughter married a Brit), the emotional hugs, sentimental toasts and flowing tears. I am beginning to see how all of the craziness came together to create an unforgettable ceremony; how all of this frenetic activity miraculously carved out an epic celebration. I couldn’t see past my own busy-ness in the midst of the planning and prepping and setting up and tearing down. But now that the champagne glasses have been boxed and put in storage, now that the beautiful photos are being shared, I am feeling the true significance of October because with November comes a different perspective.

During times of such busy-ness, I often feel like I’ve lost any sort of Creativity and that I am just a slave to the task at hand. Most of us go through these periods where we feel like we are in a circus, spinning plates in the air, and when we accept one too many plates, our only focus becomes finding a way to keep those plates from crashing. It’s tricky to take our eyes off of the plates in order to see what’s going on around us. But when we do take a step back, after it’s all over, we are met with a surprise.


According to F. David Peat, who was a student of the late physicist Dr. David Bohm, the only difference between order and chaos is point of view. Creativity ventures into the unknown, gathers what is there, and marries it with the known—making sense of our happenings. The example he offers is an atom. From inside the atom, the perspective looks like there’s a bunch of electrons whirling around in chaos. But from just outside of that atom, one can see a pattern around it. Beyond that, an observer can see that atoms are part of something even larger—a molecule. And molecules are part of larger matter, and so on. Creativity is the ability to gain a lofty perspective and connect all we see from that vantage point.

Chaos has a bad rap. Remember in the comic book “Batman” how the joker and the penguin always aim for mass chaos? Even Maxwell Smart in “Get Smart” from the ‘70s fought the crime ring called “Kaos.” Somehow chaos is part of the darker side of humanity—which, if we are honest, is actually counterproductive to understanding true Creativity. Only when we don’t see our connection to the whole is something rendered dark or unproductive.

I find it redemptive just knowing that if we can hold on and complete our overwhelming tasks, somehow accepting the chaos, that we can fulfill the mission of Creativity by making meaning out of it. We just need to gain perspective. I had no idea that my daughter’s wedding would be so grand until I looked past the small stuff. All of the chaos brought people together, joined two in matrimony and taught me that ultimately, Creativity is about designing our lives—fashioning togetherness. Anything that magnificent may require some scrambling.

Creativity Advocacy – Creativity and Death

| Opinion | October 25, 2018

Recently, my daughter Rosie and I went to visit a family member in the intensive care unit after a heart attack. We scurried through the corridors on the way to his room, noting that this hospital was utterly beautiful, with spraying fountains and bright green plants; the staff was cheerful and the walls showcased so much photography and colorful art that it almost felt we were at a museum. Creativity was everywhere!

Once seated in the ICU waiting room, however, the inspiring atmosphere completely changed. Quite close to me, a mother was weeping with her family over the loss of her daughter. The sadness was palpable, so much so that we immediately teared up, as empathic people often do, feeling their hurt instantaneously. After a moment or two, I insisted that Rosie take a walk back by the fountain because I was convinced that their grief would trigger her pain surrounding the recent loss of her best friend.

As I sat alone, musing over this fragile and tentative thing called life, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of connectedness. Even though our family member would survive, having been made new by modern medicine in the form of a triple bypass, we had been on the other end of the gamut just months before when Rosie’s friend Michelle lost her battle with breast cancer. We were the ones crying in the ICU waiting room, hugging and holding one another. Our group felt more connected in the experience of death than in all of our life-based interactions. It was profound. And now, here I sat, witnessing the same kind of intense deep bonding that seems to only occur in death.
It is immediate.
Time stops.
Brotherhood and sisterhood, made by being understood, is all there is.

My graduate and undergraduate studies taught me that the ultimate mission of Creativity is to connect the human race. I now teach Humanities through the Arts, which further confirms to me how the arts produce connections that stretch over time as well as cultures. But the more I think on what connects us, the more I realize that the arts are only one part of Creativity’s mission. Music, poetry, culinary, movies, comedy, theatre, dance, literature, photography, paintings, sculpture and architecture are obvious ambassadors of Creativity. Each genre manages to connect us—through laughter and tears, across eras and ages. But one broker of togetherness, whether we invite it in or not, is death.

Our culture tends to treat death as a taboo subject. We Westerners don’t dwell much on death, but instead are fascinated by all things youthful and new. Other cultures, such as Ghana, however, treat death as a celebratory event, embracing the liberation that only death can bring. It strikes me as odd that we could actually welcome death, but when a positive perspective precedes the occurrence, perhaps it isn’t so taboo.

The “Dias De Los Muertos” or “Day of the Dead” will be upon us in a week or so. I never paid much attention to this Mexican holiday until I saw the emotional children’s CG animated movie, “CoCo,” where I learned that a good amount of ritual follows this elaborate belief system, involving photos, altars, candles, singing and feasts at gravesites. Families are brought together for the sake of honoring the dead, which is another way that death connects the living. Beyond that, the entire family is present and united, whether they’re alive or have passed. Like most Creative acts, this requires our imagination—a grand and intangible power.

Interestingly, when we share our immediate pain at the time of loss or when we share in commemorating those who have passed, we are exercising Creativity, through ritual, love, imagination and the camaraderie of our shared experience.

Death connects us.

Personally, after feeling so acutely close to friends and family during these transitions involving death, I am struck by the many correlations of Creativity—how the “unknown” always warrants our Creative energies via curiosity, imagination, risk and emotion, and how death itself manages to stimulate all of these.

My mom taught me how death can connect us through the stripping away of whatever differences may have separated us during life. Within seconds, we all forgo worldly turmoil and we can disparage no one, nothing. We are left with only our common ground.

When discussing my thoughts with my close friend, Andrea Slominski—PhD candidate in Myth and Archetypal Psychology, she agreed that death just might be the ultimate Creative force. It is the one phenomenon we all fear, that we all must face and that ultimately unites us because it’s where we all end up—together.

Creativity Advocacy – Creativity and Destruction

| Community | October 12, 2018

Creativity and destruction are two words that don’t seem to belong next to one another. After all, Creativity warrants something new being made and destruction usually destroys something—either tangible or intangible. Why, then, do I pair them today? Well, for one, I am writing a book on Creativity. It’s taken me years to get to the point of having enough word count to share my work with beta-readers in the hopes of getting it ready to format. I’ve collected the thousands of thoughts that have relentlessly been swimming around in my head and have painstakingly put them onto the paper. I’ve Created something that may look like a stack of paper, but really, it’s my heart. It beats silently from the page and the writing of it keeps me alive, figuratively speaking. Well, after collecting vital feedback from my beta readers, I spent the last six weeks writing the final chapter. I actually had so much fun writing this last section that I felt sort of giddy.

Sadly, just last week, after finishing the chapter, which completed the entire book, I destroyed it. I didn’t mean to. It was one of those Microsoft Word disasters where you press “save” after accidentally deleting a chunk of content. In this case, five-thousand words of content. Too bad it was not my Creativity research with notes and a linear argument. That can be reconstructed. This particular chapter was all from my heart—from author to reader. Fluid and emotional and impossible to reproduce. Technology could be blamed, but mostly I blame myself for not paying closer attention to that almighty space bar.

As I noodled around the Internet looking for a Mac-hack (after calling my brother, the PC genius, and my son, the computer nerd) I asked myself why? How? I tried not to cry my eyes out—after all, it’s not a cancer diagnosis. Nonetheless, this knocked the wind out of my sails. This setback made me feel like I could be knocked over with a feather, never to return to the manuscript again. This is only how it feels, not how it actually is.

Naturally, I tried to make sense of this mishap.

One of my writer friends pointed out the irony that was obvious to her, but that I could not see. The book itself is all about the process of Creativity and how important it is to honor process before product. If I enjoyed the process of writing these five-thousand words, then voila. I am enriched. The process functioned as a positive exercise in my life. In a sense, I was forced to take my own prescription—to honor process without worrying about the end result. I can never retrieve these words. They came and went without permanence.

I mused over this for a while and then realized that painters experience this sort of thing all the time. My friend Lorelle Miller regularly participates in sidewalk chalk festivals, where giant masterpieces are Created outside on the asphalt or concrete and then washed away. Ice sculptures, too, are a version of Creating and destroying. Bakers who ornately decorate wedding cakes know their work will be consumed; they know it will be gone within hours, its purpose served. What about designers who create ornate structures for a short run at the theater, only to be the first to strike the set on closing night?

Artists who are prepared to let go of their work experience a freedom in the act of Creating that, surprisingly, is enriching and expansive. When I place myself in the company of these dedicated Creative souls, I feel a little bit better. I am trying to accept the fact that destroying my work can teach me and mold me as a writer, which means I am still in process myself and thus my development as a writer mirrors my Creative output. It’s pretty cool, I guess, that Creativity and destruction, while polar opposites, can function to knit me together and help me become a better artist.

Jungian psychology purports that Creativity involves the reconciling of tensions between opposing forces. When we embrace this tension as a way of rising to a higher plane for a new perspective, we expand and grow. By accepting this in my own mind, I am encroaching upon an innovative freedom. I like this angle because it keeps me from frustration and invites my curiosity.

Could this idea extend to others who may not be writers or artists? Perhaps something may just have to die before something new can be born. Maybe there is destruction before every new creation—an ending to a stage before the next stage begins. Raising kids was like that! There is no substitution for learning to trust in process, whether it is in artistic endeavors, home improvement, cooking or athletic accomplishments. Creativity and destruction are opposing sides of the same coin that can help us to grow in our approach to life itself.

Creativity Advocacy – Creativity and Community

| Community | September 21, 2018

Last month I attended the “Yellow Conference” in downtown L.A. where millennial female entrepreneurs got together for inspiration and motivation. I was reticent to attend, considering I was double the age of most attendees, but participated at the request of my niece Joanna, the founder of the conference. It seems that everywhere I turn, folks are bagging on the millennial culture because of their entitlement or need for instant results or lack of a work ethic. I’m not sure I want to explore the truth to these accusations, as I have four grown kids—all of them millennials. I am also, incidentally, immersed in this culture through teaching both at the college and in my home studio. I try not to perceive my own kids and students as a “demographic” per se, but as individuals with unique paths. For all the media’s finger-pointing at the younger generation, I must say I found none of it to be true at the “Yellow Conference.” The main difference between them and me was their propensity for striped pantsuits, but as far as being wired for collective, these girls had a heart for the masses much like their baby boomer predecessors.

Since my brick-and-mortar business is already thriving, and since I myself am not a millennial, I assumed the conference would have little to offer me by way of business models and branding. Was I ever wrong! Sitting in a room full of five-hundred women, next to a wall that read: “If there ever comes a time when the women of the world come together purely and simply for the benefit of mankind, it will be a force such that the world has never known,” we clapped and cried and connected not for the sake of businesses burgeoning but for the sake of the whole world. The experience was a surprise and truly transformative.

Stereotypically, women are known for their compassion, not their business savvy—a trope they’ve been trying to drop for decades. Proving ourselves to be capable and equal to men in business, without being referred to as the “B” word, has been tough. The speakers at “Yellow” did have unapologetic business know-how, and yet their drive was not based on money. The speakers were absolutely driven, offering tips on “bad-assery” and how to be the best you can be. But it didn’t just end there. After being your best, you would then help others and build community, like bees do—thus the name “Yellow.” Each business model presented how they would give a large percentage of their profits to a non-profit or charity of some kind. The general theme of each speaker was how to give back. The message was this: the purpose behind a profitable business is to profit others. These women figured out a way to employ compassion as their CEO. It was all about community.

The business models of today don’t demand expensive rents or the kind of overhead that had been necessary in my day, so everywhere I turn, there’s another start up, or online master class, or cyber-store. It makes it easier to make money, which makes it easier to give it away, especially considering many millennials don’t even want to accumulate goods, own houses or support mass consumerism. This recipe is not a repeat of our grandmothers’; indeed it is new. We are a global community now and can share what we have with others in need.

The crux of Creativity is connection—connecting us with our deepest selves and with one another. Anything that builds community, then, engages a good amount of Creative activity.

Obviously, Creativity in business is nothing new, as brainstorming clever slogans pays many a salary, but the kind of Creativity that unites us under the guise of business is novel, indeed. Not only that, but pulling all of these women together in one place to demonstrate how to do this ultimately marries opposites—business and charity/revenue and donation—where there is no need for competition because compassion is expansive. I participated in the weekend imagining I’d be just a fly on the wall, but instead I was equipped with inspiration and resources for my do-good business, ultimately, upholding the mission of Creativity. True community knows no age or demographic, only the power of our collective energies aimed at healing our world.

Creativity Advocacy- Creativity and Emptiness

| Community | August 24, 2018

Going up to McGee Creek last weekend to feel the sunshine, see the stars, smell the campfire and sleep alongside the whisper of the winddid something to me. I hadn’t been camping in over eighteen years, so it’s no wonder that I was struck with childhood memories, moments wrought with emotion at remembering my grandparents who’ve passed, a renewed appreciation for Mother Nature, and even just the sound of my own breath amidst something I know very little of—silence. The whole experience knocked me over even as it uplifted me—reminding me of my need for vacation and basically, my need to just “be.”

The High Sierras seemed to wag their proverbial fingers at me, shaming me for being so busy and encouraging me to do more of this thing called “nothing” and learn to just “be.”
Doing nothing is not something I’m good at—and I never have been. Even now, in my mid-fifties, I’ve taken to playing solitaire on my iPhone to keep my mind occupied. This jaunt through the canyons has caused me to re-think my little addiction to tiny technologies that fit into my back pocket. And in fact, my own children (who are now the same age I was when I last camped) have been encouraging me to meditate for years. Meditating is the practice of doing nothing, of calming the mind and finding one’s center.

While I don’t traditionally meditate like a yogi, in criss-cross-applesauce position—fingers poised and eyes closed, I do dabble in pseudo-meditative activities. Aside from singing, I have been known to slap paint on a blank canvas just to watch it drip, then dry. As a poet, I am experienced in the use of empty space called whitespace. Though I am not a sculptor, I am keenly aware of the negative space in sculpture that can define the form—as important as the solid shape itself. So, it does stand to reason that for Creative works, emptiness and nothingness are what actually express meaning. I concede that there is something to this nothingness.

Creativity seems to warrant empty space. In her book, “The Artist’s Way” Julia Cameron urges artists to keep margins in their calendars, as well as to carve out play dates for the practice of not-doing. Albert Einstein is known for having spent long afternoons doing just that–nothing, engaging only his imagination. Salvador Dali claimed that falling into a half-sleep state would cause him to slip into this liminal space—this slot of nothing. Meditation changes our brain’s Beta waves to Alpha and Theta waves, which relieve stress and promote well-being. Even a plant whose roots are crowded into a tiny pot can thrive when transplanted into a bigger pot and the roots can spread out. Space is good. Emptiness is powerful. Especially when that space is internal, dark, and undefined.

Not everyone’s schedule is as jam-packed as mine, but many of us do operate on a level-of-busy that flies in the face of the desert fathers’ or Buddhist monks’ idea of a good life. Learning to embrace the idea of letting go is a good beginning for both self-development and Creative works. We don’t even have to drive five hours north of Santa Clarita to experience it, either.
Nothing is everywhere.

I have to hand it to Oprah and Chopra for introducing our pop culture to meditation and marketing ideas like Super-Soul Sunday (in direct opposition to Kim Kardashian’s famed obsession with wedgies and vintage thongs) where concerned millions congregate via cyberspace to meditate and improve their practice of doing nothing. Gathering the collective around an invisible campfire to release stress is quite an accomplishment even if it’s in a file-format or a pod cast. Meditating helps to Create healthier individuals and these individuals are what make up society. When we contemplate together, we are connected—which is the ultimate mission of Creativity. Sometimes it just might take empty space to fulfill this mission, but there’s plenty of it to go around.

Creativity Advocacy – Creativity and Story

| Community | August 10, 2018

Once again, I spent my entire weekend working—if you can call attending performances working, that is. I wasn’t really doing anything beyond sitting, but such is the job of a voice teacher.  Last weekend I enjoyed four different shows. This is nothing new. Most singing and acting coaches dart all over town to support their students. What struck me about my weekend was that every show was original. New. Innovative.

The first show, a short comedic film screened down in Hollywood, cracked me up with the hilarious characters and crazy antics. The second showcased heart-wrenching scenes from the holocaust set in Italy through musical theater; the third—a new review of Broadway songs, stunned me with harmonies and emotional connection. The last one blew me away with its flawless acting, feminist themes, rhyme and musical score. I needed a weekend to recover from my weekend!

After every standing ovation (and they were 4 for 4), I found myself choked up on the way to my car. I was moved to tears by each original piece but more than that, each work carried an extra layer of emotion because it was new. And I knew the writers—I was part of something grand. I couldn’t contain my excitement for each writer nor could I restrain my joy at having shared in their Creative accomplishments.

To write a piece requires one type of Creative energy. To then rehearse, mount and execute a production warrants another. The collaborative nature of film and live theater employs even another form of Creativity. Add the audience, whose participation impacts the show, and Creativity abounds!

Original works seem to carry a poignancy that other performances may not. I find myself wondering, what drove these young composers to write new shows when there are plenty of famous works ready-made and packaged for the stage? Why did they feel the need to tell their stories?

Authors, playwrights, composers and poets use their craft to self-express. They’re in touch with the power of narrative, honoring the hero’s journey. When they share their version of life, it makes them feel connected and known. We, as the audience, might recognize ourselves in these stories as well, which allows us to feel known, understood and verified. Sharing in one another’s stories connects us.

Storytelling is an ancient art form. So ancient, in fact, that some historians believe it to be the first art form, originating around the fire when our ancestors shared myth and used chanting as a way to connect and preserve culture. Before the proliferation of books and the written word, stories were told and kept by poets, minstrels, troubadours, jesters, mimes and royal courtiers. Acting troops traveled all over, producing and delivering story for hundreds of years. In a sense, this practice still continues today, only the stories themselves are updated, made novel and more relevant. Some of the most genius, epic tales can be accessed with the click of a button. Expensive blockbuster series like “Game of Thrones” or “The Tudors” are accessed on demand from the couch, while donning our pajamas. Never has “story” been so readily available and pervasive as now.

Bearing witness to stories helps us realize our rich histories, to reflect on where we’ve been and where we’re going as a species. Sometimes the story is comedic, which brings laughter to our bodies and sprinkles a little perspective upon our journeys. Sometimes the story is tragic, but we may glean some redemption and learn something. Storytelling is in our genes, hard-wired into our DNA from past generations. We all engage in storytelling, and we all have our own tale to tell!

Next time you kick off your shoes in front of the big screen or attend live theater to partake in story, muse over the profound connection this activity can bring—a link back to humans of a distant era who, just like us, sans electronic technology, were moved and transformed by orange glowing faces, with dancing and drumming, laughter and tears, sanctified by togetherness and the conjoining of the human spirit.

Creativity Advocacy – Creativity and Transcendence

| Community | July 20, 2018

by Rene Urbanovich

I love creative visualization as much as the next guy. I think it saved my life, in fact. Well, not my life, but my livelihood, at least. I had always heard about visualization; being raised in the seventies, the E.S.P. movement was pretty prominent, at least in my memory. Later, in the Evangelical church, I heard about the desert fathers and read Christian books by teachers like Richard Foster who proposed visualizations. So it was something I dabbled in during prayer, without knowing much.

When I was fifteen, I developed nodules on my vocal cords from screaming as Ermengarde in Hello Dolly. Those nodes caused me to struggle with hoarseness for years. Though there are many parts that contributed to my healing, I’m here to tell you that the visualizations given to me by my voice therapist, Joanna Cazden, are what changed me the most. She gave me a little cassette tape that coached me through walking into a room made of my vocal folds, where I was told to lay hands on the walls, apologize to them for so many years of abuse/misuse and express how grateful I was to have them. I was really sick of being hoarse (especially since I was a voice teacher) and this woman was an established professional in the medical field, not some kookie hippie, so I went with it.

I haven’t been hoarse since.

This healing happened while I was in school working on my BA in Creativity studies. Concurrently, I was writing papers on creative process, creative people and creative purpose.

I learned that Creative visualization is not some New Age or Eastern Religious practice. In the western world during the 1800s, philosophers and artists known as the Romantics dedicated their lives to this activity.

Back when poets and philosophers were exploring meditations on art and beauty, “transcendence” meant rising above sadness; escaping sin; releasing pain; discovering beauty amidst suffering. And by God, there was a lot of suffering. People were dying right and left of tuberculosis, disease, war, childbirth, you name it.

These artists were called the Romantics because they argued that beyond earthly existence was a higher truth—one that had been created by the Absolute. Here is a great quote for anyone who follows the history of Creativity: “Romantics believed that … all creation participates in eternal truth and all things are part of the whole and of each other … and since all creation has a common origin, a thorough and careful observation of any part may give insights into the whole.” The philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer taught that intentionally connecting—communing—with art and beauty offered redemptive qualities, not only for the inherent beauty and truth that it possessed, but because of the inspiring experience it provided for the audience. It gave a momentary release from the divisive forces of every day existence and an opportunity to connect with Creation, or the whole. To connect with art meant to contemplate a thing of beauty and truth—to interact with one’s own imagination.

From where I sit, we regularly connect with art—mostly music and film. Sometimes the art is full of truth and beauty (the CG movie CoCo comes to mind) and sometimes not (The Ring—ugh!). Of course, a lot of people believe in visualization and meditation now. People use that “happy place” to help with bad moods, traffic, lost keys and a whole lot of other stuff. Even without the help of the masters, so to speak; it has finally become a part of our culture.

I sometimes wonder if we might inadvertently use art as an escape instead of a way to connect. We want to sort of numb ourselves to the stresses in our lives. Instead, we could tap into our imagination. The mission of Creativity is to connect us with the whole. Using our mind to connect with a work of art or with nature serves us individually by lowering our blood pressure and relieving stress. It connects us with the transcendent nature of art too, whether it’s a meaningful song or a poignant movie. We share in these experiences, sometimes with friends and family, which connects us to one another. Next time you find yourself being soothed by a beautiful ballad on Spotify, or lose all track of time during a captivating film, take note that you are touching the transcendent properties of Creativity.

Creativity Advocacy: Creativity and Ritual

| Opinion | June 30, 2018

To embrace Creativity means to embrace change.

Creativity has transformative properties—and who experiences these transitions more than a female? My hips changed from narrowed ballerina to widened woman as I entered my twenties so that I could use them to carry things—good for more than just guitars and yoga mats, by the way! My body has morphed into a butterball baby factory four times! This torso of mine also became a milk farm for those four infants. That’s just the physical alterations. What about the mental adjustments women go through in order to accommodate the family’s needs? Of course, men do too, and even infants and children change every few weeks. Our developing bodies and psyches are in a constant state of flux. This power to change derives from the force of Creativity.

Many Creative acts require risk, intention, hard work, dedication, talent, insight and space. If we don’t engage with the force of Creativity, our problem can’t be solved; our screenplay can’t get finished; our painting can’t get hung. But Creativity that starts inside our brains and cells doesn’t need our conscious participation. For example, even when you make up your mind that you’re ready to deliver your baby, you can’t will yourself into labor. No amount of castor oil or jumping on the bed will outdo nature. Even my young students who are working actors don’t want to grow up because it might mean outgrowing their casting director’s needs, but nothing they do or say will prevent the onset of adolescence—and there’s the major mood swings to boot! We change whether we will it or not.

Just recently, I went through the infamous change that women do when they’re about my age. This transformation is complex and confusing and is viewed by society as some sort of disease. Lucky for me, one of my best friends Andrea Slominski, is writing her dissertation on the subject of Menopause because she can hold the candle for me when these complex, confusing and transformative moments darken my path. She truly understands and honestly, what feels better than being known?

Perhaps to offset my own fears of society’s negative attitude toward aging, I decided to embrace my life’s imminent change and throw myself a party. I called it a “Punctuation Party” to symbolize the shift from what mythologists call the Mother/Householder stage to Regent stage. We recited poetry and did ritual stuff, like beading a crown and crafting “blossoming” necklaces. It was so significant, Andrea and I decided our culture should adopt these Punctuation Parties to usher more of us into this exciting question-mark stage of life, right alongside the Mexican Quinceanera and the Jewish Bat/Bar Mitzvah.

The human race has been practicing ritual since the beginning of time. We still have birthday parties, baby showers, weddings and funerals—even graduations—to help us commemorate the big moments in our journeys. Rituals are our way of participating in those rites of passage that happen to us regardless of our deliberation. Ritual allows us the opportunity to put a frame around the fascinating photos that are life itself, to reflect and honor and engage with our own transformation. Ritual also connects us to those who have gone before us. Without it, our lives would be somewhat superficial. Ritual and ceremony tie us to our inner selves and to humanity—and as always, Creative acts connect us to something larger than ourselves. We participate—consciously and unconsciously—with the force that propels the species and the universe at large to thrive.

That’s something to celebrate.

**The Views and Opinions expressed in these columns are those of the writer, not necessarily those of Valley Publications/Santa Clarita Gazette**

Creativity Advocacy Enemies of Creativity, Part 2

| Opinion | June 1, 2018

If Creativity possessed a form or a body, she’d most likely have some enemies. Last article, we took a magnifying glass to Routine as one potential enemy of Creativity. When kept in his place, Routine wasn’t so bad, but today we look at enemy #2 – the Naysayers, and there is absolutely no place for Naysayers when it comes to Creativity. They just don’t mesh.

There are three types: the domain expert who seems to shame us for trying something new, the family critic who ridicules us at every turn, and the self-sabotager whose negative voice, while silent, is but the loudest one of all. We need Creativity to help stave off these enemies, and luckily, she’s always on our side.

Enemy #1: The Domain Expert:
Let’s say we attend a play at the town theater, which inspires us to audition next time around. We promise ourselves that we’re going to practice our “la-la-la-las” and get out there with the locals. But we haven’t studied musical theater formally, so we feel embarrassed to admit our deep desire. Or we’ve always wanted to take up the guitar, but never had time or money for lessons, and now with YouTube tutorials we could actually make it happen. But we don’t, because there’s that guy at church with his MA in music and, well, he may laugh. Whether it’s poetry, painting, furniture building, singing, cooking or even modeling – anything novel that carries a history of professionalism – the omniscient presence of a shaming expert causes us to shy away, one back-pedal at a time.

Sometimes in real life, and sometimes in our minds, we imagine the experts mock us for our efforts in a certain field. Mihaley Csiksentmihalyi, the leading scholar on Creativity, is well-known for endorsing that an act is NOT considered Creative unless it contributes something novel to the domain. This attitude is what paralyzes us and then we forego the Creative thing that we secretly want to do. Perhaps these scholars and experts aren’t considering anything but the macro – society at large. Contrary to this theory, the phenomenon of Creativity is NOT limited to the experts in any domain, no matter what the academics say. I look at it this way: any Creative act in which you engage contributes greatly to YOU on the micro level. Research proves that music, writing and painting enhance brain function, not to mention it is used as therapy and for elevating moods. If enough of us invest in our own personal Creativity, we grow as individuals, which actually does contribute to culture at large. “The field” in this case is the universe itself – an undivided whole – and our Creative efforts are attempts to fit into that greater whole.

Enemy #2: The Family Critic
The Family Critic has no filters when poking at our ideas or belittling our inspirations. However, we must accept that being Creative requires a certain amount of risk – the risk of being made fun of or gambling with our precious time and energy, or both. So it goes. The family critic may tell us to our faces that we’re wasting our time, money, and energy chasing some dream. We then must take it as a compliment. We’re getting intimate with the force of Creativity – maybe they’re just jealous. We must make it look so good that they want a piece of her, too. That way, they might get off our backs.

Enemy #3 The Self-Sabatoger
This Naysayer constantly tries to talk us out of interacting with Creativity. We all hear the voice; we all give in to it. Life is just way too practical to accommodate all of the Creative ideas that cross our minds. The feasibility of Creativity is never going to trump our logic. Creativity doesn’t abide by those logical and feasible rules. Getting used to that Self-Sabatoger will render it powerless. Better yet, we can treat it like a non-threatening, but irritating, hitchhiker. Like the family critic and the shaming expert, we must tell that self-sabatoger to “get on in, but don’t tell me where to go or how to drive.”

Becoming close to our own Creativity will never be easy – but each of us has been close kin to her during our childhoods, so the love between us runs deep. She’s known us at our most vulnerable, developing moments and can be trusted. We can stay true to that relationship while still dealing with her enemies, as long as we’re prepared. Creativity is of utmost importance to us on both the individual level and on a societal level. If we can’t fight off the naysayers for the sake of our own development, maybe then, we can do it for the sake of the collective.

Creativity Advocacy – Creativity’s Enemies, part 1

| Opinion | May 11, 2018

Creativity is not an actual person with friends and enemies, per se. But if Creativity had a form or a body, she would most likely possess some dear friends and a few foes. She would cuddle up to life’s Dark Space and have lots of lunches with Open Schedule. She’d possibly be besties with the much-overlooked Curiosity. She’d chill into the night playing with Game and Puzzle; she’d slumber party with Laughter and coddle Tears of Sadness. She’d be pretty cool that way. But if her foes approached her, she’d probably fling up her fist like humans do to vampires about to strike. Certain elements aim to suck the life out of Creativity, drain her, and she’d do all she could to keep them at bay.

In movies like “Twilight,” the protagonists know exactly how to stave off the dreaded enemy. It has something to do with the power of the cross held up in the face of the fanged monster. In real life, however, most of us don’t know what to do when these bloodsuckers come at us and deplete us of our Creative juices. We don’t even see them coming most of the time.

These forces of evil come in the form of routine and naysayers.

When it comes to routine, most of us would think Routine is a good friend. He’s stable and consistent and lovingly pats you on the back when it comes to exercise and hard work. But something we may not know about Routine is that he can be possessive and power-hungry. Creativity and Routine have rendezvoused for millennia, and when she sees this tendency in him, she packs up and dismisses herself. She knows better than to tango with his mistaken sense of entitlement.

When we team up with Routine, we can be on top of our game, doing life the way we’ve set our intentions. We feel so good that our brain patterns carve out a groove and all is right with the world. We follow a known and expected path of activity, measure our Creative productivity with a smile and then enjoy the rush of dopamine. But every groove starts out as a perfect pathway, much like the wheel had shaped an easier ride for covered wagoneers across the prairie long ago. After too many trips, though, a healthy groove potentially becomes a rut and passengers end up stuck somewhere, wondering where Creativity ran off to. Routine seems to have taken over and left no room for her. He seems to do that with Unpredictability and Imagination, too.

Instead of getting stuck in our relationship with Routine, perhaps we could treat him like a prearranged Airbnb guest – welcomed, but not permanent. If we make enough changes to our Routine to keep our pathways fresh and less automated, then Creativity still has a chance to join us in our journeys. Routine is not a bad guy; he just needs to be kept in his place.

Metaphors aside, it’s crucial for us to keep the literal, physical pathways open that encourage brain plasticity. Our attentional circuits need variance or they begin to rust. Columbia University’s new study in neurogenesis suggests that we can create new neurons up to age 79. Without challenges, though, our brains get lazy. We can contribute to the making of new cells by breaking routines and employing our five senses whenever possible. Creativity is responsible for these shifts in behavior, as well as the resulting new brain cells. By endeavoring novel experiences (hiking instead of going to the gym, taking a new trajectory on your commute, picking fresh fruit off the tree instead of buying packaged), we can live healthier, longer. Creativity is on our side and she tends to help us do more than paint pictures or sculpt masterpieces or craft a screenplay. She’s pretty cool that way. And as for the next enemy – the naysayers – there are two kinds: Experts and Family Critics. We›ll visit them in the next column. We must pace ourselves as we put these antagonists in their place.

Creativity Advocacy – How I Tackle Creative Blocks

| Opinion | April 19, 2018

Wallowing. It seems to work for me. I know, it sounds silly, but I’m an expert on this stuff. Not only Creativity, but wallowing. I’m a Voice and Creativity teacher by day and a wannabe-writer at 5 in the morning. And I’d love to tell you the one thing that helps me write: wallowing.

It is usually done on the floor, supplemented with sound effects … or not. The benefits are plenty. I use wallowing as an accompanying behavior to help my brain get into that “space” that experts call flow. I lie on the floor, sort of roll back and forth, you know – wallow. It’s peaceful when done in the living room, but going outside and staring at the undersides of leaves can work too. There’s more to wallowing, but I want to explain how a physical behavior can help the brain click into a particular mode for abstract thought.

Take my day job: If my singing student wants to use a specific tone quality for a particular song, I train his/her voice along with a hand motion. This way, instead of a single pattern set for the vocal cords, the brain gets another connection to this specific tone quality. For example, in the high head voice, I ask the student to pull the note out of the air with the left hand. It’s like magic and actually helps students sing high without tension. How? Firstly, it’s a distraction. And secondly, using the left hand quiets the critical side of the brain. It invites the Creativity part of the brain into the activity. Repetition will help train the body and – voila – a person who couldn’t reach a high C is suddenly trilling like Snow White.

When we train our brains by using “accompanying” behaviors, usually we can kick that neuro-pathway into gear, even when facing self-doubt and the paralyzing fear that looms in the corner of the mind. Singers tend to experience “writer’s block” as a pinching sensation in the throat; they literally choke, preventing themselves from “letting go” and from filling the room with their unlocked Creativity and talent.

Now apply that to writing (or sculpting, painting, back-handsprings, etc). I am afraid that the blank page that stares at me from the computer screen won’t become what it should be, so instead of letting go, the page is literally blocked from filling.

The best way to ease my fear is to just lie down and let go.

I wallow on the floor, rocking, rolling and humming, and because it’s a childhood behavior, memories flow in and out, I lose track of time, and I begin to feel connected to that vast realm known as the “internal.” My imagination is activated by this behavior and, as such, I use it as a jump-start.

I probably should add that sometimes I cry a little and it’s usually because I’m frustrated as hell and want so desperately to finish my piece. The crying also helps, as it connects me with my primal, emotional self. Frustration can be debilitating, and fear is the worst. If I can get that my inner child is on my side, I’ve got it made. Children aren’t afraid of Creating.

Wallowing also induces curiosity, another childhood quality – which everyone knows is a sister to the imagination.

If wallowing becomes your base before you Create, it can lead the brain to that flow-state without all of the self-loathing and criticism. The wallow sets the brain in motion before you get up off the floor. This becomes your practice. It’s much better to concentrate on process (like flow and connecting to your deeper self) than product (“no one’s going to read this”). Wallowing can help you overcome fear by establishing a brain pattern and opening you up to the inner realm of Creativity that’s always waiting to be engaged.

Everyone’s different. If you played with Lincoln Logs as a child, you could buy a set of those – the trick is to tap into the brain associations and trust those associations to defeat your block. What will your kids say when they walk in on their mother or father building a log cabin in the corner of the living room?

Creativity Advocacy: The Power of the Unseen

| Opinion | April 5, 2018

Most people don’t know who Lindon Leader is. The name Leader somehow even suggests that he’s someone we could follow, right? His influence on society is less “in-your-face” than someone like Mark Zuckerberg or even Albert Einstein. Lindon Leader contributes his gifts behind the scenes – but thanks to Google, we can at least see what he looks like. (He’s kind of cute, if you like older men.) He’s an award-winning graphic designer.

Around 20 years ago, my dear friend Fran was working on a logo for my voice-training business. She brought me some great examples to show how powerful a logo can be – fully aware that the branding is as important as the singing lessons themselves. I’ll never forget my reaction to the FedEx logo when she presented it to me. Of course, I didn’t catch the little arrow between the E and the X until she outlined it for me – it’s that cleverly placed. When it hit me that the arrow had always been there but I had never noticed it, I was overwhelmed with surprise. How had I missed it? Who had thought of this?

Fran went on to design an artsy, musical logo for my burgeoning business, but in actuality, she did more for me that day than just submit a comp for marketing purposes. She was a catalyst for my pursuit of the mysteries of Creativity, which has since become life-long.

Now, when I pass the FedEx truck on the street, my lips turn up in a smile. I get a warm, colorful feeling. It’s not because Lindon Leader is cute, either. It’s because of what he and his brilliant logo represent. Sure, the arrow itself symbolizes the trip that delivers packages from point A to point B. Indeed, the arrow stands for accuracy and speed, which marketing experts intentionally included in order to pack in hidden depth. They knew that a subliminal arrow could reach us on a secret level. Ultimately, this hidden message is partly what undergirds the success of the company. The man behind the logo is a mini-representation of the same ideal. He may never be at the forefront, but still impacts culture.

I get super excited at the thought of this. It may seem like much ado about nothing – I mean, who gets excited about some painted image on freight? Most people wouldn’t mentally register if the truck had passed by, unless of course they were waiting for a delivery from Amazon. Why do I care so much?

The hidden arrow reminds me of the phenomenon of Creativity. It exemplifies how Creativity is moving us as a species from point A to point B, through medicine and scientific discoveries and humane relief efforts. The concealed emblem signifies the unseen force of Creativity that is always there, whether we focus on it or not.

Creativity is the force behind our ideas, our intuition, our curiosity – all unseen. Creativity connects us with our emotions, family histories, our dreams – and helps to transport those interior components to the exterior, from point A to point B. Most of the time, we aren’t conscious or aware that Creativity is at work. We are too busy at the grocery store, or tending to our “to-do” lists on our iPhones. But our individual journeys are still secretly propelled by Creativity and manifested in music and art and sometimes in relationships or a delicious stew. Our individual Creativity can take on many different forms and packages. Each time we problem solve or crack a joke, we are interacting with the unseen powers of Creativity.

Like the FedEx truck, Creativity delivers. We may be preoccupied with the tasks at hand, checking off boxes, focusing on what’s right in front of us, but beneath the surface, Creativity connects us with our hidden realm and packs meaning into our lives. What could be more exciting than that?

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