Putting ourselves into making
Whole-body creating might be an out-of-body experience
A bit of a philosophical rant for this week’s free Friday story. Let me know what you think. And as always, thank you for being here! ~JRC
Creativity can be all-consuming. It's quite common to start a project, become engrossed, and then lose track of time. The experience is a favorite among creative types; we call it "the flow." But while immersed, we are anything but still. Working in the flow often means engaging our whole body, not solely our hands and minds. This engagement is necessary when an involved physical task demands it. But sometimes it can be far more involuntary. An artifact of the complicated and fascinating way creativity manifests, maybe it's even a transfer of who we are into our creations.
Some creative endeavors are physical by nature. Large-scale projects like carpentry, sculpting, and gardening take every muscle in our bodies. I recently built a chicken coop for my backyard, and it was exhausting for this reason. Now, I must say that my chicken coop was quite the build. It's more akin to a backyard casita or playhouse than a run-of-the-mill coop. And as such, it's on the fancy side. Pulling off the build required I hold boards with my body while using my hands to fasten them together. I wanted it to look good, and I expected quality work from myself. So with each step, I threw my all into it - literally.
It wasn't just my body that was active in this build, though. My mind was fully engaged too. The problem-solving was mentally demanding and yet rewarding. It took looking backward and forwards at the build, assessing my progress, and plotting its completion.
This is a joy in creating. We become so involved that little room exists for anything else. But other things do creep in, and often we are completely unaware of these actions.
One of my "involuntary" responses to creating is sticking my tongue out. Yes, I am an adult-tongue-sticker-outer. I recently wrote a subscribers-only essay on the subject. Here's an excerpt:
It's thought our ancestors once communicated mainly using hand and body gestures, not voice. But as complex language evolved in humans, our hands became free to do all kinds of other things. Our brains then went into serious overdrive. Think about it - a massive neural reworking took place to make this switch possible. The result: we can now cuss out bad drivers and shake our fists at them simultaneously.
But there is a side effect to all this complex communication: we are mentally overloaded. Thinking is a big deal, and for kids, many of these processes are still developing. So when a child engages in engrossing tasks like drawing, math, or sports - the tongue comes out to quiet it. That's right; kids stick out their tongue to shut it up - so they can better concentrate.
But why not most adults? There are a few hypotheses, and I cover them in that story. Want to check it out? Consider subscribing to my paid content to read more. OR - simply ask. I'd be happy to share; no strings attached.
Anyway, the funny thing about "whole-body creating" is that we move and fidget (and sometimes stick out our tongues) to control all those complex activities at once. It's akin to thrusting out our arms when we lose our balance. Doing these involuntary actions is part of how our minds cope with involved processes.
Recently, I had a revelation about just how deeply my mind and body engage in making.
Working on a noisy step, I had my earplugs in to shield them from the table saw chatter (safety first, of course). But between cuts, I stopped and took out my earplugs - to think. Yes, that's correct - not being able to hear interferes with my thinking.
It would be only moments before starting up the saw again. And I had to fumble with reinserting the earplugs before doing so. But the need to hear, even though I was only thinking, outweighed any inconvenience removing and replacing the hearing protection would bring. But why? I didn't need to hear anything at all - I was in my own head.
Curious, I did some sleuthing online to see if it was me or a broader connection with whole-body making.
Most of what I found was to the contrary. There's solid evidence that blocking out distractions can improve our ability to think. And I can attest to this as well. On airplanes, for example, noise-canceling headphones have been a godsend for me. The loud distractions and cramped space inside a plane cabin used to overwhelm me. But in blocking out the sounds, I can retreat into the safety of my thoughts - and find peace. However, while making, things are different.
When I am creating, I'm not sitting alone trying to extricate myself from the world. Instead, I am embedding myself inside my work. It's as if I move my consciousness from within by body to the outside - into what I create.
Okay, this is starting to sound like new age B.S. But bear with me as it's not as far-fetched as it sounds.
Recent studies on consciousness suggest that it's not only our brains that generate our self-aware identity. Everything from our hearts to skin to limbs contributes neural signals that affect how the brain works. And in so doing, these shape the thoughts and feelings that emanate from us. Further studies show that our whole-body nervous system may act in memory and thought. So it's not just our brains doing the thinking.
It would seem, then, that our whole bodies make up who we are, both physically and mentally. Given this, the idea of throwing ourselves into our work is almost literal. When we use our bodies to create something, that means our whole selves go into it, with nothing excluded.
While I was making and thinking about making with ear plugs in, I left out a significant part of "me" while creating. My"self" was deeply engaged in something external - what I was making - and the whole of me was needed to keep that connection strong. Although my hearing was not vital to the process, it is essential to my existence, so excluding it reduced my entire engagement with the outside world, and with my work. But with hearing intact, I could think and make, unencumbered.
I imagine this almost like a blimp tethered above in a strong wind. The blimp is our creation and our bodies the mooring below. With only one or few ties, the dirigible is likely to rip away. But with many strong connections, even redundant connections, the airship stays put. Our ears, in this instance, are like one of those extra tethers. Along with hands, eyes, and whatever else we are actively using to create, they keep us connected. As we further deepen our connection with our creation, these links ensure our physical self stays attached to our tangible design.
Yes - a lot of handwaving conjecture here. But it's an intriguing thought. Imagine it - the creative process, at its best, is all-consuming. And it could also very well be an out-of-body experience. Are we transferring our mind into our work as we make? It's a straightforward hypothesis to ponder but a tough one to study and see.
Like a dream and many involuntary actions, we stop as soon as we become aware. When I am sticking my tongue out when I create is an example - it ceases as soon as someone points it out. Or when I stop making (whichever comes first). But this action is every bit a part of who I am when I create. Could this be a tangible signal that we are, in fact, transferring consciousness into our creations?
Until next time.
JRC
My answer is yes, we are transferring our consciousness into our creations. Our thoughts are manifested into form. It's inevitable and occurs in varying degrees depending on how much presence we bring to our work. I'm glad you asked!