I’ve always been handy.
I’m the kind of person who fixes things at home, electrical faults, gas cookers, and small breakdowns that require patience more than instructions. For a long time, I never thought of this as creativity. It was just something I did.
One day, after fixing a faulty gas cooker, my wife’s cousin, Hannah, looked at me and asked, “How did you even know that’s how you’d fix it?”
As I began explaining the process, something shifted.
It dawned on me, this is creativity, too.
When we hear the word creative, we often picture artists, musicians, writers, or designers. We often imagine creativity as something proven only by talent, visible results, or a specific profession.
But creativity isn’t confined to a canvas or limited to a job title. It’s a way of seeing and engaging with the world.
You don’t need to be an artist to live a creative life. You just need to notice a little more, follow your curiosity, and make choices that feel true to who you are.
For a long time, I didn’t see myself as “creative enough.” Even as a designer, I sometimes felt boxed in by industry expectations, only associating creativity with outputs, aesthetics, and applause.
But over time, I started noticing something else.
The way I restructured my day was creative, the way I navigated parenting challenges was creative, and even how I chose to dress, not to impress, but to express, was a quiet act of creativity.
Creativity stopped being only about what I produced; it became about how I think.
For years, I only saw creativity in my work, not in these everyday skills. People would say, “Oh, you’re so creative,” especially my wife, and I’d brush it off.
Until moments like fixing that cooker forced me to really see it.
When you problem-solve, adapt, or build something differently, whether from scratch or by improving what already exists, you’re shaping outcomes.
You don’t need a studio or a paintbrush, sometimes creativity looks like:
- Saying something differently so it’s truly heard
- Preparing a meal with care, not perfection
- Rearranging a space to feel calmer
- Solving a problem with humour or empathy
- Choosing an outfit that feels like you
Some of the most creative people I know are not in the arts at all. They are parents, teachers, entrepreneurs, and problem-solvers. People who quietly turn the ordinary into something meaningful.
In Simplicity: The Genius of Less, I wrote about how clarity often appears when we remove what is not necessary. The same idea applies here.
You don’t always need to add more to be creative; sometimes, all you need is to see more clearly.
When things are simplified, space appears, and where there is space, creativity finds room to move.
So, what if your creativity isn’t missing at all, but already in motion, present in your rhythm, your choices and your voice?
What struck me most was that “Creativity is not about performance.” As someone who considers herself creative, there are times when I don’t seem to be producing as much as I could or should, for whatever reason, and there’s this eerie thought that tells me you’re not being “creative.”
Meanwhile, I am a creator, so I create by default. Whether or not I have a tangible work aligned with my gifting out there or not, I am creative by nature. Everything outside of me is just a unique expression.
I love how honestly you said this.
That quiet voice that whispers “you’re not being creative enough” can be surprisingly loud, especially when output becomes the measurement. It’s almost like we forget that creating and producing are not the same thing.
Being a creator is not something you switch on when a project goes live. It’s a way of seeing, a way of responding, it is a way of noticing.
Sometimes it looks like published work, some other times like thinking, observing, resting, or rearranging ideas quietly in your head.
The seasons where nothing visible is happening can still be deeply creative. You know, roots grow before branches show.
I’m glad that line resonated with you. And I’m even more glad you reminded yourself that your nature doesn’t disappear just because there isn’t something tangible on the table yet.
Keep creating, even when no one can see it yet.