Prescribing Joy: Joy in Creation
Owen (poetry blog; prose blog) is a highly creative mathematician with, in his words, “no talent for certainty” but “some capacity for empathy.” That “some” is one of the greatest understatements I’ve witnessed in my life so far. Empathy flows through his poetry and prose such that my days feel kinder by far when interspersed with his words.
Joy in Creation
When it comes to thinking about what brings me joy on a daily basis, my problem is limiting my answer to one thing.
I love to write, it brings me joy. I love to play the piano, it brings me joy. I love just talking to my wife, she brings me joy. I love playing with my grandsons, they bring me joy.
I love my job; I love to read; I love to drive down any road I’ve never been on. I love looking through pictures for poem ideas; I love stretching my muscles; and something as simple as a sip of a Pepsi brings me joy.
Running through much of this is this: the experience of creativity, whether mine or someone else’s, brings me joy. I love watching children creating new games from old ones; I love trading absurdist banter with my sons online; I love the more elaborate creativity of writers, artists, and companies of people who band together to make the more complex cooperative creative things, like television shows or movies.
I work at a business in a mathematical field, but everyone where I work recognizes the look of any work product I’ve done – i.e., they immediately know it was me that did it or designed it – because it doesn’t look like anyone else’s work. I can’t keep creativity out, and I’m grateful I don’t have to.
There is so much pure, daily joy in just making something that wasn’t there before, and as long as the joy remains in the creation and not in other people’s approval of it, it is a joy that can’t be sullied.
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