Genius!

On my last trip to the Philippines, I went to a resort in Bataan where I witnessed a short presentation of Jose Rizal’s* life (snippets of it, at least). I was so taken by the performances and the utterance of the Filipino language that when Rizal fell to his death I gasped. Yes, it was a loud audible gasp that prompted several people to stare at me and probably thought that was the first time I learned the hero was killed by a firing squad. 

The performing arts are a source of fascination. As a child, I sat wide-eyed at every play and movie my parents took me to. From Juan Tamad (Lazy Juan) to Ibong Adarna (Adarna Bird) to The Sound of Music, each one a brick for my castle of dreams. I fancied myself getting an Oscar or a Tony and I would practice my award acceptance speech in the bathtub with my sister as the sole audience. 

Nothing expresses, validates, and touches human emotions quite like the arts. When we think of museums filled with wall to wall paintings, the spoken word poetry of Sarah Kay, the music of Jon Foreman, George Balanchine's The Nutcracker, or Banksy's satirical street art, we marvel at the creative genius that produced their work. Artists are the proverbial brushes in God’s hands with which He renders the world as a kaleidoscope of color in HD. But they’re not the only ones. 

I don’t have a knack for the arts. I suck at piano, a bad dancer, an average singer, can only draw stick figures, and even though I managed to snag a few lead roles at school plays I don’t see a Broadway playbill with my name on it in my future. But I could get creative! My “genius” got me out of several spankings, tight spots, rock-and-a-hard-place situations, and heartaches. It certainly got me through my first year in New York City when I found myself in the middle of a figurative ocean without a life vest and I had to use every ounce of imagination in my possession.

Creativity, like intelligence, is a gift we all have. To say that one is more creative than another is not only judgmental, it’s inaccurate. Just as I don’t subscribe to the notion that intelligence is given more abundantly to some and not to others, there should be no measure for creativity. This is not to discount the fact that some people act as though they don’t have a morsel of it, either because they are not trying hard enough or have lost all hope and have given up on life altogether. But the truth is we are all creative and smart in different ways; we each have different aptitudes. Some are mathematicians but not linguists. Some are scientists but not writers. Some are pastors, others are comedians. Some are academics, others street smart. Some planners, while others thrive on spontaneity and reckless abandon.

Could this question about who’s creative and who’s not be a symptom of a bigger issue? The thing is we like labels; it’s easy compared to putting in the actual work to get to know someone, peel their layers, and view their different facets. As long as we can tack on a category (i.e., smart, dumb, creative, unimaginative, etc.), we think we’ve got a person figured out. We make impressions of people based on stereotypes and put them in boxes according to our perceptions and judgments. We then form opinions of ourselves depending on how we stack up against everyone else. Why?

We all have peculiar quirks. Our genetic makeup made sure of that. So the next time we’re insecure about our “lack of talent” or feel the need to criticize someone for theirs, we should remember that we can’t all be Mozarts and Beethovens. The sooner we accept that it’s okay to be our own uniquely creative selves, we’ll be more ready to accept others for who they are as well, sans the labels. 

*National hero of the Philippines

Imagination is a wonderful thing to have.