Waypoints

Primary creative "access points" can sometimes lead toward more shallow depths of superficial interest, with no continued exploration of the ideas. Ideally what you should want is to follow through the various waypoints, even if how you began was clumsy or naive.

Take the more recent interest in mindfulness and meditation. My first access point to spiritual topics was (gasp) a reading of Dianetics circa 1985. Soon thereafter, I became friends with someone on a mediation path, which I followed for a while, then abandoned. But after that came the Maxwell Maltz books, then Jung’s Man and His Symbols and some of the other Collected Works, then Joseph Campbell’s Power of Myth--then I abandoned them all in favor of various science-related non-fiction, and now have had somewhat of a revival of philosophical/spiritual topics. (Knowledge for me is a dynamic Venn diagram, with the overlaps shrinking and growing over time. But it's never been the case that there was no overlap of something. If the metaphor is a concentric ring system, it's not the overlap, but entering The Ring. (You choose the metaphor: Saturn, or boxing)

Colliding Spheres of Influence

There are certain things that I don’t like even if I’ve tried them, and they all end up in the same "room". For example, I don’t typically like country music, although in the 1970s and 80s there were a few country artists that I did like. (Behind Closed Doors was a huge hit in 1973, and I liked a few Glen Campbell songs.) In retrospect, the overlap with country music came through guitars, and one country piano player, Floyd Cramer, who I believe was the piano player on the Rich song. Cramer riffs sometimes emerge in my playing--as does country/blues in general. I haven't been able to keep it from creeping in--even though my affinity is narrow. I am still very interested in philosophy and spirituality, but even then, there are certain areas that I have no interest in, mostly in the area of theology. So in some ways, country music and theology are in the same room--along with ufology--or panpsychism. One would think that I would not be into the topic of panpsychism, but I find it very interesting in many ways. I’ve always liked the work of Rupert Sheldrake, who some believe is a kook, but he is anything but. There can always be some kind of access point between the "rings" that allow you to make a connection, and from there, you can become interested in a lot of other topics. But that doesn’t mean because I've liked part of a book on theology, that I'm into the topic as a whole.

It is then completely consistent, at least to myself, that I can be fully engaged with reading a Thomas Merton book, which sometimes has the quality of burning focused sunlight through a lens. It is tough reading; You can’t avoid introspection. The various books I encounter have their own inner access points: For example, Merton’s book made me think about true intentions and how modernity made the idea of becoming a Trappist monk more of an option. Chinese culture, for example, isn’t concerned with self-actualization--at least historically. The desire for democracy has its own access point to becoming a monk to flee the side effects of modernity. But Merton states that has the wrong intention; Intention springs from a peaceful place within, even in the context of more disturbing circumstances.

The other side of the coin is an affinity for things I shouldn’t like such as the work of architects Philip Johnson and Frank Lloyd Wright given their controversial histories, especially Johnson's involvement with Nazism. This relates to the idea of compartments—rooms that are completely isolated from one another, save for access points--incidentally something Wright was truly clever with in the formation of access points around a structure. Conceivably, psychotherapy can locate access points between “rooms” far apart. Obviously, the operative metaphor is architecture—and taking it a step further, doors and corridors as access points or paths. As a young child, my passion for architecture probably led to music. There are many ways to cross-metaphorize the two--the primary one being rooms-movements, procession-development as you “move” through the music as you would move through the rooms of a house via focal points. Metaphors are the most obvious forms of access points, and both Wright and Johnson used them. But the two architects were polar opposites in many ways, with perhaps commonality in grand visions for architecture as a form of Utopia (like Wright’s Broadacre City). Johnson was essentially a clone of Le Corbusier, both from a political standpoint (fascism, Nazism) and in the minimalist style. Wright wasn’t political per se, but Broadacre had unwitting racial overtones—given that Broadacre was for affluent whites—his clientele.

Foyers

To continue the riff on the architecture metaphor, when writing books I have learned that it is a good practice to write the introduction at the end of the editing phase, as the path in which creativity takes is continually changing its shape. The idea that anything is strictly linear (at least with creative work) is hardly ever true. Ever since the beginning of the Internet, and the use of hypertext, linear thinking has been supplanted by interconnected methodologies. The “Once upon a time—The End” frameworks still exist—but only in a final form. The path a writer (or any creative person) takes is continually looping back and forth; One might have several ideas for both beginnings and endings, some of which can become beginnings and endings of completely different works. All creative people have had happy accidents, and they all vary on how to process them. Sometimes you can integrate them into your primary work—other times you have to blaze a new path. Access points can appear at any point, and will always entice you to follow them. The shortest distance between and through all the access points can only be determined in hindsight. Good frameworks for merely getting this done by checklist will shorten the distance between access point and finished product. But take that same path and you’re in a rut, thinking about the fastest ways out.

Creativity can have these kinds of “desire paths” but you have to have the desire to make them, or else you’re going around in the same circles thinking the scenery is somehow different, or that where you’ve come to a dead end.

There are departures but never complete arrivals in creativity.

On aviation waypoints: https://www.cntraveler.com/stories/2015-06-02/a-pilot-explains-waypoints-the-hidden-geography-of-the-sky

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PS:

9/28/2024

Even though it’s a rare experience, I love it when the final result resembles the initial stages and access points. I’m reminded of Stephen Sondheim, who certainly didn’t follow trends and continued on writing exclusively on paper. A good takeaway is that even if you know technology is going to mow everything down, you can hold firm on how you work. You remember how you started and you use that as an anchor.

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 Biology and music overlap when using a systems or generative approach. Having an interest in either is the access point to both, and consequently they become consilient. 

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When the world is running down, you make the best of what's still around.--Sting

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Non-musicians or non-visual artists don't always notice symmetries. But once you do it is an access point to creativity.  Symmetries provide a framework for thinking and doing. Symmetry itself is inspiration. 

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On Geddy Lee: What I found remarkable was that he decided to collect instruments and write a book about them rather than use them to make more music. The reason may be that he is now a part of the story in which all the collected instruments tell as a whole. It can also be an Access Point to the band if you've never heard of them, or an access point to picking up an instrument, which can be in some other form, such as a book. Books might be a more effective medium for storytelling through a collection of objects, rather than through cryptic poetic or lyrical constructions.