I like to think I am creative. I’ve even been told I am creative. What have I created?
I have “created” some recipes, mediocre poetry, software programs, 5 children, an environment of trust and respect in my home, opportunities for myself to advance in my professional and personal life, a small mountain of debt, a small pile of regrets.
Are these creations? No. I don’t think so. I haven’t created anything. I have only chosen what to borrow from the only Person who can Create.
When I create a recipe I choose ingredients based on knowledge I have borrowed from countless websites and cookbooks and mostly my grandmother. And I borrow the ingredients from the earth’s bounty.
When I plant an herb garden I borrow the seeds from someone who created the seeds from the first versions of thyme and oregano.
When I write poetry or a blog post I borrow the words from the voices in my head: my mother, my mentors, favorite authors, friends, lovers, grandchildren, peers, co-workers, philosophers, clergy and enemies.
I have never created anything of note, nothing like the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. But wait, I believe Michelangelo would back me up and agree that when he saw that unique piece of blank canvas in front of him he was merely a vessel of the Creator. And even he was a chooser of borrowed items.