It was an evening at home alone, when I first started thinking about creativity. I sat there staring at the desk in front of me and just felt a desire, an urge, to be creative. And I wanted to make something artsy of some kind: a drawing, a song, a poem. I wanted to be an artist, even if just for a few hours in my house alone. No pressure to show anyone or tell anyone what I did. I relaxed into my chair, closed my eyes for a few seconds and started drawing. When I finished, I had produced a pencil rendering of an old Chinese guy. Nothing special, but I felt completely at peace with myself. It was almost like I had been meditating for an hour. Except better.
