Have you ever read a poem that gave you goose bumps, made a gentle itch in your soul that you desperately wanted to meet the poet in person? Have you ever heard a tune and felt a deep emotional attachment with it that you just wanted to shout out loud to the composer, out of gratitude? Have you ever gazed at a piece of art and had an urge to talk to the artist? I wonder, because it has occurred to me hundreds of times.
“Do you sing?”
“Oh yeah, sometimes I do. I write poems too, but not that many!”
“That’s beautiful. I play guitar. Why don’t we sometime hangout, jam maybe?”
Whenever I meet someone with a propensity towards music or arts or creation, I find myself immediately sinking into conversations as above. And I am quite sure that many of us have at times shared similar experiences, given that we love to sing or play or create or design. Irrespective of our backgrounds and professions, such spontaneous openness is a function of something psychologists and philosophers love to call ‘creative bonding’.
Creative bonding is a mighty defiant to the decrees of age, sex, caste, religion or ideologies. It has the power of bringing people of seemingly opposite thinking to a same ground of imagination and pursuit. I could hate you for many reasons, but if you’re a good singer or a composer or a poet or an artist, I’m obliged by my own creative virtue to respect you, to see you as a person that does something beyond just existing.
This attachment is unlike any other forms of human interactions, it is a divine way in which people metaphysically connect with others who share a considerably equivalent level of imaginative and intellectual consciousness. This bonding doesn’t seek out any achievement, and it has no defined purpose to serve. Yet it has its own aura, a distinct, flawless character molded by a sense of something bigger, soulful and holier. Isn’t it beautiful when two discrete human beings, completely different from each other share a common unseen appetite for art or music or innovation?
This divine bonding has served humanity at its best. It has produced awesome music by the greatest of bands, gifted us with many of our technological triumphs. There wouldn’t be any literary masterpieces if the writers and readers didn’t share this intersecting space in their psycho-emotional sphere. The world would be boring and monotonous lump of stardust if someone didn’t paint and some others didn’t relate their own imaginative thinking with the hues inside that painting. No one would sing, and hence no others would dance; no one would design, nothing beautiful would have been created if this rather unsung fruit of human consciousness never existed.
And what’s best about creative bonding is- if we let this attachment diffuse into our workspaces and relationships and homes- we would be even more close to each other; we would feel each other more deeply, understanding others while letting ourselves wide open for an amiable interpretation. This would make us even more productive, even more willing to share our interests and hence dissolve our ego. Nevertheless, it’s a pity that only a meager fraction of the human population develops this queer ability to be under the skin of the other (bridged by creative bonding), for it takes dedication and a proclivity towards compassionate understanding.
I can’t say for sure how nativists or environmentalists would react on this particular pretext, for I see that human experiences and perceptions are subject to how well one has seen, not just through the biological lenses, but also through an intangible window of self-realization and contemplation the spectral of this world. A general view fails to display us the nuances that construct this intricate fiber of creativity and the secondary repercussions that it leads to. This unseen drive that attracts people towards creative maneuvers is an onerous thing to comprehend, and hence vulnerable to misinterpretations and ridicule. Often, these creative fires are mocked and laughed at and disguised for foolishness. But that’s where the trick kicks in. Passion and vision outwits this mockery, and these blissful souls never give up creating and learning and sharing. Then symphonies of change are composed, status-quo challenged. Heretics are heretics for a reason.
So, go recite your poems out and loud. Dance when you feel like, even if there’s no audible music. Someone may join in your moves, you never know. Sing, and vomit your frustrations out. Make a cartoon out of that retard politician, pluck your guitar’s strings till your fingertips bleed. Don’t worry, a little blood is always okay; and also, medicines do really work. Your creative spirit won’t let you just follow and consume and submit and die; you are here to build something, to find out alternatives to confirmation and perpetuate the humane legacy of progression. You are a metaphor written by the universe that not all can understand. But don’t let your flames die, and soon enough there will be some others who catch your fire.