Creativity. What a wonderful, frustrating, puzzling thing! As puppeteers we admire it, aspire to it, require it. But what the heck is it, and how do we get it?

Said Willa Cather of a character in one of her novels: What was any art but a mold in which to imprison for a moment the shining elusive element which is life itself -- life hurrying past us and running away, too strong to stop, too sweet to lose. If it is life hurrying past which prompts our creative need, then as the new Millennium approaches, we should be more needy of creativity than ever before. Perhaps never before in the history of the world have so many people led such busy, complex lives as they do now at the end of the 20th century.

But the busy-ness of life, paradoxically, is the very thing that often keeps us from being creative. Our To-Do lists are woefully long, our responsibilities gather like vultures. Who has the time or energy for musical composition, sonnet-writing or puppetmaking? We make a New Year's Resolution to set aside just a few hours a week for our chosen art, but by January 10 we've already broken the promise.

So is it hopeless? Maybe not. Maybe it's not hours we must set aside. Maybe we just need to give our creative minds a moment here and there. I've done it myself, just recently -- twice, in fact -- and it was something of a revelation.

You might not consider McDonald's Hamburgers to be a likely spot for a creative epiphany. But, By Yiminy, it was. I was standing in a lonnng line, waiting to place my lunch order. It was right about noon, and the lobby was populated by moms with young kids, construction workers, and corporate types glued to their cell phones. Because of the layout of the restaurant, anyone who had just received their order had to walk through the area where I stood, in order to get to the exit. A frazzled customer would rush towards my space, then I and the guy in line in front of me would move to make room for the human battering ram. As I took two steps back, my predecessor in line took two steps forward. After about six repetitions of this scenario, we both began to chuckle, and he said "Shall we dance?" Because during the past 15 minutes we had executed six perfect do-si-dos.

At that moment, I had a vision. I suddenly saw, in my imagination's eye, every hungry customer in that room get in formation and do a square dance. The workers behind the counter pulled out fiddles, and we had a rollicking old hoe-down! Then I thought how perfectly that imaginary scene could have been enacted by puppets. Voila! Creative inspiration for the day! I'm convinced the idea would never have occurred to me if I had not been forced, through captivity in the McDonald's line, to slow down. A window in time opened up, and creativity came in.

Here's a second example. For years I've worked now and then on a show about a snowman who falls in love with a potbellied stove. When Minnesota's landscape becomes white and wintry, I'm inspired to give that show some thought. During one late below-zero night recently, I was closing window blinds, when I just had to stop and admire some frost ferns etched across the window. They reminded me again of the snowman story. And the very instant I thought of the snowman, I realized that painted on the window in front of me (in reality, not imagination) was a perfectly-shaped heart made of frost. Perhaps it was a gift from Winter. But I think it was more likely a gift from me to me. I had given myself a moment's pause from the hustle and bustle of my 20th century life. And when I was immersed in that moment, I wasn't alone. Creativity was there, too. I guess she had been there all along.

Copyright 1999 Freshwater Pearls Puppetry