Field Notes on Creativity in Real Life
I thought the Creativity in Real Life series was finished.
Apparently, real life disagreed.
After a recent trip went wildly off-script, I saw how often the principles, assumptions, and mindsets of creative problem solving carried me through.
And I thought you might appreciate hearing my field notes on creativity in the wild.
What Else Is True Right Now?
It was supposed to be a simple trip. Fly to New York City on Monday evening, stay overnight, facilitate a training session the next day, then fly home Tuesday night.
Easy enough.
My flight out of Buffalo was scheduled to leave at 5:41 PM, so I did the math. Leaving my house at 4 PM would give me enough time to drive to the airport, park, get through security, and get to my gate before boarding started.
Except I forgot that by 4 PM, rush hour had started.
And I forgot about the construction on I-90.
So the drive took longer than expected. Not dramatically longer. Enough to make me more aware of the clock, though.
Then I pulled into the airport and saw that the Long-Term Preferred parking lot was full.
Grr.
That’s my go-to lot. It costs a little more, but it’s close enough to the terminal that I can avoid waiting for a shuttle. And if I’m honest, I don’t have much patience for airport parking shuttles.
So I headed to the regular Long-Term lot.
Only to drive by row after row after row of parked cars with no empty spaces in sight.
Honestly, I didn’t even know that lot was that big.
I finally found a spot in the very last row. I got out of the car, looked toward the terminal in the distance, and thought, “You have got to be kidding me.”
I briefly looked around for a shuttle.
As if to spite me for all my previous shuttle-related arrogance, there wasn’t one in sight. I was going to have to hoof it.
So I started walking.
Fast.
By the time I got through security, I discovered that my gate was—of course—the farthest one from the security checkpoint.
So I began my second trek.
As I walked through the airport, I could feel my frustration starting to build steam.
Now, I should probably mention something here: I am not naturally a relentlessly positive person.
Positivity has—not once, but twice—shown up as #34 (aka dead last) on my CliftonStrengths profile.
In fact, one of my gifts is noticing problems, obstacles, risks, inefficiencies, and potential issues before other people do. Which is useful much of the time.
But left unchecked, that same tendency can turn into irritation, negativity, or hyper-focusing on everything that’s going wrong.
Years ago, an old boyfriend once joked that if I’d been a medieval Scottish princess, my name would have been “Kathryn-of-the-Bad-Day.”
Honestly? Fair.
But somewhere along the way, I also learned that noticing problems and getting stuck in them are not the same thing.
So somewhere in the terminal, as I heard “Come on, come on, get happy” blaring on the speakers, I caught myself and thought:
“Kathy, you could absolutely rant and complain about this right now. But what if you named three positive things instead?”
So I did.
First, it was a beautiful day. That walk would have been miserable in rain or snow.
Second, I’m healthy enough to walk quickly for long distances. Last year, while recovering from my foot injury, that would have been difficult and painful. For some people, it would be impossible.
Third, exercise is good for me. Since travel was already disrupting my normal fitness routine, maybe this unexpected extra walking wasn’t entirely a bad thing.
And somewhere in the middle of that little mental exercise, I smiled.
Nothing about the situation had changed.
But something in me had.
Resilient… and Stubbornly Creative
The training the next day went really well. Great group. Great topic. Great venue overlooking the Hudson River and the Statue of Liberty.
Afterward, since my flight home wasn’t until later that evening, I decided to spend a little time at the 9/11 Memorial across the street.
I still don’t quite have words for what that experience felt like.
Beautiful doesn’t seem quite right.
Meaningful, certainly.
Heavy, but peaceful.
Sadness and resilience somehow existing side by side.
I was especially moved by the Survivor Tree — the Callery pear tree that was discovered badly damaged — but alive — in the rubble after 9/11. It was rehabilitated and replanted at the memorial years later.
Something about that stayed with me.
Maybe because resilience rarely looks dramatic while it’s happening.
Maybe because survival often involves adaptation.
Maybe because living things continue reaching toward life.
By the time I got to LaGuardia that evening, I’d had dinner, settled at my gate, and was feeling pretty good about the trip.
Then the first delay was posted.
Notice I said first.
After five delays, the flight was finally cancelled.
By then it was after 10 PM, and I was sitting in LaGuardia refreshing airline apps, talking to customer service, checking the chatbot, and trying to figure out my options.
As it turned out, my options were basically:
Not much.
Take it or leave it.
The airline offered to rebook me on a flight the following afternoon that would route me through Chicago before eventually getting me home to Buffalo around 9:30 PM the next night.
Reader, absolutely not.
Now, I’m not a particularly picky traveler. But the idea of spending another full day navigating airports and layovers for what should have been a one-hour direct flight felt ridiculous.
And almost immediately, I found myself thinking:
“There’s got to be another option.”
Whether that’s stubbornness or creativity, I’m not entirely sure, but that force motivated me.
It shifted me out of resignation and into possibility. Out of passivity and into action.
I checked other airlines. Nothing promising.
I considered renting a car, but an eight-hour solo drive sounded exhausting.
Then I checked Amtrak.
There was a morning train leaving New York that would get me home by late afternoon. The cost would essentially balance out with the refunded flight.
And honestly?
The idea of a quiet train ride with WiFi, space to work, time to read, no turbulence, and no layovers sounded kind of wonderful.
Sold.
Vulnerable Enough to Ask for Help
Now I just needed somewhere to sleep.
Since the cancellation was weather-related, the airline wasn’t covering hotels. So I started mentally scrolling through people I knew in the area. The first several people I thought of had recently moved away.
And then I thought of a friend.
We hadn’t talked in a while. I wasn’t even sure she still lived in the city. I guess I could ask.
But then I hesitated.
It’s too awkward to text someone out of the blue at night asking if I could stay at their house.
Then I turned the situation around in my mind and looked at it from another perspective.
If she were unexpectedly stranded in Buffalo, I would absolutely want her to call me. I’d insist she stay with us.
So I reached out.
“Hi! Do you still live in NYC? I’m stuck here overnight.”
Her response came almost immediately:
“Omg! Yes I still do! Come to my house!!! I have a guest room!”
Less than an hour later, I was sitting in her living room getting kisses from her sweet pup, Peanut, and catching up on life.
No scouring the internet for an available hotel. No stressing about the cost. No front desk hassle and no sterile hotel room with fluorescent bathroom lighting.
What Does This Make Possible?
The next morning, I boarded the train.
And honestly? While it was different from the original plan – the plan where I flew home Tuesday night and was home working all day Wednesday – it was a pretty good day. It certainly unfolded at a much gentler pace than the one the airline had proposed.
Instead of navigating LaGuardia and O’Hare with carry-on bags, short layovers, and more flight time than necessary, I had a peaceful train ride with room to breathe.
I kept two Zoom meetings using the train WiFi.
I thoughtfully responded to emails.
I planned an upcoming workshop.
I read my novel.
And I still made it home in time to join my husband and pup for their evening walk before dinner.
Which brings me back to creativity.
I think we sometimes misunderstand what creativity actually is.
We imagine art projects. Big ideas. Innovation. Inspiration.
And certainly, creativity can include those things.
But sometimes creativity looks much smaller and more practical than that.
Sometimes it looks like interrupting your own negativity before it takes over the whole day.
Sometimes it looks like asking, “What else is true right now?”
Sometimes it looks like refusing to believe the first bad option is the only option.
Sometimes it looks like asking for help.
And sometimes one of the most creative questions we can ask is this:
“What does this make possible?”
Because in this particular case, a cancelled flight unexpectedly made possible:
a reconnection with a dear friend
a productive and peaceful workday
some much-needed reading and reflection time
and a much gentler trip home than the one I originally planned
Not because the inconvenience wasn’t real.
But because inconvenience and possibility can exist at the same time.
And maybe that’s part of what creativity in real life actually is.
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