Here’s what happens when vehicle driving creativity gets stuck in rush hour traffic

Some people come into this world with an innate urge to create. The drive to churn something out comes in many forms: It’s a circle in a Venn diagram that overlaps with creativity, productivity, inventiveness — and perhaps even obsessive-compulsive disorder. The something that is created, the end-result, comes in many forms.

The destinations could be art, music, novels, doodles in the margins, origami, hand-crocheted afghans, home-grown tomatoes, baked goodies, fancy feasts, TikTok videos, silly phone apps, business presentations or blogs. Some destinations are grandiose, accompanied by fanfare and great senses of accomplishment. Others carry less prestige. But even a scribbled doodle on a discarded envelope represents effort — and a release of productive energy.

Productive energy sparks ideas, initiating a life-cycle. Some ideas fizzle immediately, laughed off as ludicrous or implausible. Other ideas are released for exploration, then can make it to a research stage, where budgets and feasibility are evaluated. Do I have a blank canvas? Do I have enough sunlight to grow the tomatoes? Can I execute on this project, at what cost, and is it the right place to direct my energy?

I’ve found that managing my ideas is nowhere near as challenging as managing my energy that drives me to create. The ideas and projects come and go, little vehicles driving around through the arteries of possibility, fueled by hope. Some are sent to destinations, while others are routed to parking lots to sit and wait.

The worst ideas are banished to the junkyard, but even abandoned notions can sometimes be parted out for new projects. As long as the flow remains orderly, the ideas continue to flow, the destinations of completion are reached, and my creative energy is vibrant and rich.

It’s when the traffic patterns of these tiny projects and plans are disrupted that all goes haywire, and productivity — be it in the name of progress, or art, or just because — comes to a screeching halt.

For one reason or another, I’ll close down a lane. Perhaps I don’t feel well, or I don’t want to make a mess or spend the money. Maybe I need some help, or others are vying for my time. Maintenance needs to be done. Rest has to happen.

Ideas pile into a massive traffic jam, a mess of half-baked plans and incomplete projects, all honking their horns, trying to cut in line, wanting to be the ones that make it through next.

Critical functions are prioritized to get through, and the quirky, artsy, fun things get cut. The impractical, recreational, colorful vehicles that serve no purpose other than creative joyrides and aimless, Sunday driving are sent to the parking lot and shuttered in garages.

Eventually the lanes reopen. But when creating for the sake of creating is throttled, it can be threatened by the excuses of practicality. When fewer ideas get through the vetting process, fewer ideas show up. When the flow stops, the friction no longer generates energy, until eventually, it’s gone.

Once-loved hobbies are now neatly stacked shelves of dusty supplies, making no mess, but bringing no joy, and producing no sense of having made a colorful contribution. They just sit there waiting for someone to come visit the scrapyard.

Emily Parnell lives in Overland Park and can be reached at emily@emilyjparnell.com.