By: Daniel Salcedo Rubio, Features Editor

If you asked me over the past six years if I consider myself creative, my answer would have probably been “no.” Before that, though, I defined myself as a creative person. I grew up surrounded by art, from learning to play a couple of musical instruments to picking up brushes, paints, and a canvas. I’d just paint whatever came to mind. The thing is, being involved in the arts and being creative are two different things. A lot of us are conditioned to think of creativity as a mysterious force that creates art — a mystical entity that only a few are blessed with. The reality is creativity isn’t quite that straightforward.

There are thousands of ways to define creativity. The more utilitarian and structured definitions assert that “creativity is novel and useful, is a description of a product.” The more spiritually inclined definitions tell us that creativity allows us to “experience your spirit through your six senses.” Whatever your definition is, it can most likely be broken down to a tool or skill used to create something novel, or from which novelty and change arises. At its core, creativity is not a mysterious force that some have and others lack: it’s a skill, and as is the case with any other skill, you can train to be more creative. 

I think I was a pretty creative kid, but that creativity didn’t arise from nothingness. I was a very active kid; I used to play tennis and go swimming with friends on the regular. I also enjoyed playing video games and studying the flowers in my grandma’s garden. It’s no surprise that my sketchbooks were filled with pretty flowers and different renditions of Link from The Legend of Zelda doing different activities I enjoyed (also no surprise that I’m a gay biologist now). While original to my creation, my sketchbooks were filled with information my little child brain absorbed from its environment. My environment was filled with information I could pull from, full of images and moments of reflection, even if at that moment I didn’t see them that way. The reality is, I was privileged as a kid, and I had an optimal environment to be creative. Now, let’s focus on my ever-exhausted, sun-deprived, and creatively-depleted self. Yes, university made me busier, as I wasn’t exposed to the same environment as I used to be. Then, there was my first corporate job, with traffic jams, cubicles, and the office coffee machine. These were the only creative inputs I was getting for 12 hours a day. It’s true and natural: with growing up comes more and more taxing responsibilities, and you might not be able to expose yourself to that same environment rich in creative nutrients. However, creativity doesn’t die with age, it dies without a conscious effort to keep it alive.

When I was a kid, my mother did a great job of making sure I exercised enough; tennis, taekwondo, and swimming lessons were my day-to-day. Today, with far less time and far more responsibilities, I’m at my best physical health. That’s mostly because I make a conscious effort: I allot the time and track my progress. I never thought of having this same approach to my creative self until I stumbled across The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. I have to clarify, I haven’t read the entire book, but I know it serves as a kind of a guide to train one’s creativity through exercises. Exercises? For creativity? While it might sound a bit unconventional at first, there’s merit and actual research behind this approach. The book itself does mention exercises, but its emphasis lies on what Cameron calls the morning pages — a form of reflection and meditation done first thing in the morning, every day — and the artist date — a weekly form of reconnecting with those creative nutrients. While I can’t yet speak to the effectiveness of either of these exercises, what I can say by experience is that consistency is key. Cameron’s book is one of many examples of creativity training. A quick search of “creativity training” on Google Scholar shows over five million results, ranging from neuroscience concepts for creativity training to creativity training for nursing students. 

While approaches to creativity training in the form of exercises vary widely, a thing that might not vary as much is the science behind it. Brain imaging experiments have given us insight into which regions of the brain activate during certain creativity tasks. Having objective measurements to how our brain approaches creativity can also help us better design ways to train for it. For example, we know that the anterior cingulate cortex is associated with divergent thinking: an unstructured, problem solving-oriented way of thinking when we’re in a good mood. Things like having a gratitude practice, mindfulness, exercise, and a good rest are also directly related to our brain’s creative health, which is no wonder why I felt so creatively depleted when I grew up. A full night’s sleep, as a university student? Exercise, mindfulness, and a gratitude practice? How would I fit all that in when my day-to-day was going to work at 5 a.m. and not coming back home until sometimes 10 p.m.? 

We are creative selves by nature and depleted of it by the business of life. Sometimes, life can be too much, and more often than not, we end up stretched so thinly that we don’t have the energy to consciously give time and space to our creativity. And while it’s true that for some it might be impossible to give time for their creativity to materialize in paintings, novels, or whatever we commonly associate with creative individuals, the importance of conscious creativity practice can’t be understated. Start with unfiltered journaling or give a shot to the morning pages, build your practice little by little and trust that your creativity will pop up in unexpected ways and you will feel better for allowing it.