I love playing with metaphors. 

Metaphorical thinking is, according to some researchers, the main source of creative inspiration. Metaphors instantly shift our perspective, opening a range of previously imperceptible possibilities. 

Metaphors can unlock powerful creative breakthroughs, as seen in biomimicry: a kingfisher inspires a bullet train, a burr inspires velcro, a termite hill inspires a building that cools itself. They can create fresh insight as in Rick Rubin’s description of pro wresting as a metaphor for all of life. Or they can guide our personal development and form the scaffolding of a coaching engagement.

When I notice an interesting object or situation, I often think, what does this make me think of? What could this be a metaphor for?

As an example, the other day I passed a strange sight. Down the road from my husband’s family’s home in a residential neighbourhood of Nablus is a locked-up structure with a small brown sign.  

It turns out that Nablus is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world. (It’s name comes from the Latin neapolis (new city) as it was called in the time of Emperor Vespasian c.72 CE).  

Behind this unassuming metal and concrete structure lies “The Eastern Roman Mausoleum.” 

In a different city on the northern side of the Mediterranean, this site might be a tourist attraction, maybe even part of a small museum. And yet, for many reasons this place is practically boarded up and all but forgotten. 

I found this to be an evocative image and wanted to play a bit with it as a metaphor for creativity. 

We all have a history of creativity in our childhood — a period that can certainly feel at times like ancient history. And yet, as we enter adulthood, many of us abandon that part of ourselves. We cover it over with layers of judgement and practicality. 

After neglecting this part of our inner landscape for many years, some excavation may be required. A process that can be slow and painstaking. But the reward is the recovery of long forgotten treasures buried below the surface. These precious objects (memories, interests, passions, talents) create an important link with our past, enrich our identity, and inspire new possibilities for the future.

And, like these ruins in Nablus, our dormant creativity is often hiding in plain sight. So many people I speak to claim, “I’m just not creative”, but often all it takes are a few probing questions to scratch the surface and reveal the way creativity is already showing up in their lives. In the the dinner parties they host. The games they play with their children. The poems they write to entertain their colleagues or friends.

Some of the people I interviewed for my research talked about a point in their past when their creativity “died the ultimate death”. The image of this boarded up archaeological site suggests a different process. I think our psyche steps in to protect our creativity when the conditions are no longer/not yet hospitable. It keeps our creative self safe until we have the resources to develop it. 

This makes me think of another metaphor — perhaps a more appropriate one given that today is the spring equinox in the northern hemisphere — of ice thawing. 

In the past, I’ve felt grief for the years in which my creativity was “on ice”. It felt like a tragic wound or a sign of weakness. A painful story to try to live inside.

But a gift of this metaphor is that it reframes freezing/ice as a natural process. An instance of nature’s intelligence. An act of preservation. A necessary phase in a complete life cycle (at least in certain climates). Others’ creativity may live in a tropical location of constant and reliable warmth and abundance. But it seems my creativity is indigenous to a more temperate climate with the cycle of seasons. 

The wisdom of the seasons is that no state is permanent, no feeling is final. Patience will be rewarded with change. Ice will thaw and the stream will flow again without us having to do anything, with no efforting, no striving. All that’s required is allowing. For now I’m holding this image/metaphor as a talisman, a reminder to relax into trust and let Nature do her thing. 

This is the magic of metaphor -- the transformation of stuckness into life-giving movement.

What’s a metaphor that speaks to your journey with creativity -- past, present or future?