In the course of my daily life, I often find myself navigating the unknown. As a data scientist, I'm handed a problem—often urgent and complex—but the path to the solution is rarely clear. I must formulate the problem myself, often through a series of failed approaches. The process is neither linear nor predictable. Similarly, in my hobby of playing jazz guitar, I struggle to find the right chord progressions or improvisational phrases. There too, the breakthrough comes after failed attempts, trial, and reflection. These two worlds—science and music—share a hidden bridge: the essence of creativity.
Creativity, to me, is the act of discovering or constructing something I did not know existed. It is not simply solving a known puzzle. It is arriving at something that wasn’t obvious, even in hindsight. I did not always know how to get there—but somehow, I did. This process has convinced me that creativity is not an exclusive gift, given to the few. It is a seed planted in each of us. Yet, like any seed, it must be nurtured. It cannot grow in neglect. The difference between mediocrity and mastery is not the presence or absence of creativity, but whether or not we make space for it to grow.
To nurture creativity, we must first answer the calling. We must not ignore that inner nudge—the whisper that there might be a new way to see, a new way to express, a new way to solve. Though the moment of creative breakthrough is not fully under our control, it rarely arrives without effort. Making time for the struggle, even when inspiration is absent, is essential. The muse does not come on demand, but she respects consistency.
Yet, our age threatens creativity with a subtle poison: what I call "existential laziness." This is not the mere reluctance to work, but a deeper erosion of engagement. Why solve a problem yourself when a button can give you an answer? Why dwell in uncertainty when convenience offers escape? But creativity is born precisely from uncertainty. It emerges when we wrestle with hard questions and stay long enough in the discomfort to find something new.
So why pursue creativity at all? In ancient times, it was essential for survival. Tools, shelter, strategy—these were products of creative minds. But even today, when our physical needs are often met, creativity remains vital. It is how we improve our quality of life, how we maintain our dignity, how we push the limits of what it means to be human. A life without creativity may survive—but it does not flourish.
In the end, creativity is both our burden and our gift. It demands that we become active participants in our own becoming. We are not merely thinkers or doers—we are makers of meaning. And it is in this making that we find ourselves.