Lightning can bolt across the sky, zigzagging through the clouds to release its charge. Lightning can arc through the atmosphere, blasting through atoms of space and crackling with glee whilst doing so.
Without creativity, it's just an action. Not a means to get home, not a dance brightening the crackling sky.
Just a form of nature.
Not a blaze of possibility, electrifying the mind and sending volts of unspoken realities through the sky.
Still, those volts are meaningless if the mind isn't willing to receive them.
The cold mind, the rigid one that allows only for the factual data, can merely formulate and break down evidence. It can find the statistics embedded within the patterns. It can bring forth relevant scientific information, can find the sufficient theories, can point to expected conclusions and connections.
Yet, connections made here are inflexible, unwilling to glide and contort to improbable truths. They set-up the defined outcomes, the expected procedures, and are blind to the persistent abnormalities that life knowingly slips in.
The other mind, the one that lies somewhere on the other end of the spectrum, is one of a more adaptable disposition. It allows lightning to snake through the facts and construct possibilities. It gives way to improbable movements, it lets the past's impossibilities because the presents -- the gifts -- of today.
It allows for the potential to fling a boy far out of his era and also deliver him home.
It allows a scientist to fall back into a land of wondrous adventure, a far more pleasant reality than the bleak one he had always presumed was to be his.
It allows for a train to sweep through the skies, for a car to traverse unguided by mere roads, for a child's toy to become a teenager's escape.
And it allows for the interweaving of the cold and the warm. The blending of reality and potential.
The ability for the mind to roam through all of life's possibilities