Our fourth of July celebration turned out to be exceedingly quiet. Orion went to a fireworks show with Aubrey and her boyfriend, Matthew. Spencer and I decided to watch the show from deck chairs on our roof, yet we discovered to our surprise the neighbor's trees grown enough to partially obscure the view. It's a fair trade for the extra shade. We agreed that we'd seen enough fireworks. So we enjoyed our outdoor space, playing "Endless Summer" on the television on the deck, sitting in beach chairs with our feet in the water and drinking Smirnoff. Recluse and Hermit were we, watching other people surf.
But we heard the fireworks explosions and speculated on future works and even solved a couple of small technical problems, geeks that we are.
One thing that came up in our discussions is an aspect of creativity we both recognized, but didn't have a name for. Maybe you can help. It's hard to describe in the way that it's hard to explain to someone how it feels to whistle. You must first discover it by casting around, trial and error style, until your brain associates the position of mouth with sound.
I get this mental sensation when I'm close to solving a puzzle (e.g., slider puzzles in video games --as in Finding Nemo.) I've also experienced it when close to solving equations. It goes beyond 'the zone,' but that state of concentration often precedes the sensation I refer to.
Does this sound familiar?
Multiply it by several factors and it aptly describes the experience of honing in on a complex work of art---one of those where the metaphors click into place. When it happens there, it's accompanied by a rush of adrenaline. Not a good time to interrupt me.
(and no, I'm honestly not smoking anything. ;)
It is indeed difficult to define a process without terminology. So I put it to you for clarity and, well, fun! Either someone will find a name for it, or we'll just make one up.
Time for swimming. g'night