[-quick tip, practice-]

A Quick Creative Practice
~simple habits can have profound impacts~

“The smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls, ready to remind us…..” Marcel Proust, French writer.

Whether you’re on a high energy creative roll or in a loggy slump, paying attention to your senses always makes good sense.

The kind of creativity you’re engaged in will tend to dictate the sense organ that you primarily use—though sight wins hands down. Music - hearing, Photography - sight, Cooking - taste, Pottery/Sculpting - touch and what about that OTHER one? Ah, yes, smell!

Since that’s the sense that tends to be used least, try going on a smell adventure for a way to inspire, to perk up your creative juices. As I have detailed recently, cooking that is done with intention, can be a great creative catalyst for this very reason.

Cook something that has smells you really love—or hate! Even if you don’t, cook you can make lemonade, cocoa, peppermint tea. Or just bite into and eat one perfect peach, making sure that you are aware of the smell as you do it. There are smells all around us all the time, right? Paying attention to them is the key.

Smells can be a switch, a direct neurological link to a memory, a feeling, a moment in time. It’s simple and effective. Researchers believe that this feeling of directness to a smell or taste induced memory has to do with the fact that these senses are our only chemical ones.

Sense memories are most often associated with the art of acting, but they are also intimately tied with writing, music and art as well. We create out of who we are, so what could be better than to use this primitive, chemical-sense to heighten our abilities in order to create our own truth?

After exposing yourself to the smells of your choice, try doing a ten-minute writing exercise or quick sketches. Use the mental stimulation to create something just from the sense of smell. Have fun!

Here’s an excellent article on the science behind the sense of smell and memory.

Cooking is one of the few creative activities that I engage in pretty much everyday. However, I realized recently that somewhere along the line I stopped giving cooking the respect it deserves.

I have always enjoyed cooking but I guess my children—over time—with their penchant for the bland and the familiar, ate away at ( )the amount of creativity that I generally poured into daily meals. I remember my younger son exclaiming that a quickie “Sloppy Joe” dinner was “The best meal you’ve ever made, Mom!” That’s okay. As a busy mom, I’d take any compliment I could get.

But for years now, it’s ordinarily just my husband and myself and since we’re both adventurous eaters, I have free reign over what to cook. I’m not much of a planner. I work until my tummy tells me it’s time to eat, go downstairs, think about what I’m hungry for, see what’s available— sometimes pulling out three times as much as I’ll use—and start cooking. I rarely use a recipe for evening meals. The results are usually good and often delicious (my rule of thumb is Would I be happy if I’d paid for this at a restaurant? and often I can answer “Yes!” to that question)

However, I don’t usually think of it as part of my creative day.

Recently, I had a different kind of cooking that needed to be done. We—like many people this time of year—have a surplus of zucchini from our little garden. I don’t even particularly LIKE zucchini so I knew that I needed some creative ways of using up these mass quantities. I looked on the internet for zucchini breads and ran across a beautiful cooking blog called 101 Cookbooks by Heidi Swanson. There, I found a recipe for a zucchini bread with an ‘Indian’ twist. This looked perfect as I was having my book club over that weekend. Our book club does a pot luck dinner with food suggested by the book we’ve read and this time it was Indian.

I set to work making this and what I ended up with was not only a yummy dessert and a little less zucchini to deal with but also a renewed appreciation for cooking as both a creative outlet and catalyst.

Right from the start this zucchini bread recipe offered me two things: 1) the opportunity to bake—which I love but don’t allow myself the time to do and 2) a recipe to follow. Nothing earth-shattering there, but it dawned on me as I got into it that following a recipe was allowing me a mental escape. Follow the directions. Do this, then do this, then do that.

Relaxation was the first thing I noticed. I scooped and measured the dry ingredients, enjoying the gentle mess of flour as it sifted across the counter. I used my food processor with childlike glee to shred that huge zucchini in the photo in a just few seconds.

Then I noticed that the relaxation was overlaid with something else: stimulation. My sense of smell became activated in a major way by the ingredients. Lemon zest! Wow, what a virtual explosion of associations: summer and heat and childhood and so many others—all good! Then there were the more familiar but homey smells of pecans (being from Texas where pecans grow, I used them instead of walnuts), cinnamon and vanilla. My senses were further delighted by surprising ingredients such as crystallized ginger and curry powder. What yummy smells and sooo delicious.

By the time I popped the two pans in the oven, I was as relaxed, happy and energized as if I’d had a late-afternoon walk on the beach or a great yoga class. I felt raring to go! Ready to take on more baking (I used up more, though not all, of the zucchini on Heidi’s gorgeous chocolate zucchini cupcakes! which we are still enjoying around here) and more of anything creative I could get my hands on.

I would have come upstairs and written this post right then if I hadn’t had Book Club coming the next night!

What I realized—remembered—is that cooking, when we can relax into it involves the senses as few other activities do. Not only smell and—of course, taste—but touch and sometimes even hearing. And it’s one of those activities such as walking or riding a bike, driving or taking a shower that can put us into a C-mindful state. I’ve often worked through plot knots while cooking. The activity is absorbing enough that it distracts but it doesn’t require a great deal of concentration—sometimes none at all. Perfect for c-mind problem solving!

So here’s the reminder: We have to eat, so why not approach the occasional cooking *chore* as an opportunity to delight our senses, relax our minds and catalyze whatever we want to do with our excess creative energy.

bon appétit