Are ideas something that fall from the sky, or something you dig up?

Where on earth do ideas come from?
Do they fall from the sky?
Or are they something you dig up?

I'd like to think about the answer to the question of where ideas come from.

"Falling from the sky" and "digging up"

<Falling from the sky>
There is an image that inspiration comes suddenly.

For example, when you are in the bath, or taking a walk, a lightbulb suddenly goes off in your head at a random moment. This is what is commonly referred to as "falling from the sky." It's used in phrases like "an idea fell from the sky" or "I had a flash of inspiration."

In yesterday's article (article link: Scooping up what is scattered in the air and putting it into words), I wrote that there are triggers that push the switch of thought. This also feels like something falling from the sky or a flash of inspiration.

<Digging up>
On the other hand, "digging up" is a more planned and steady process. You build up logic, gather information, form and verify hypotheses, and finally find it.

For example, when you think, "What should I talk about at next month's seminar?" or "What should I write about in my next blog post?"

At times like these, you sit at your desk and organize your thoughts, look at your notes, or recall past experiences. It's close to the feeling of searching for buried treasure while digging through a sandbox with a shovel. It's like an archaeologist clearing away dirt to excavate ruins.

Come to think of it, I wrote an article like this:
"How do you write your articles?"

I have experienced both processes myself. Sometimes I suddenly have a flash of inspiration and start writing, saying "Aha, this is it!", and other times I spend days building up notes on a single theme to narrow down a conclusion.

Actually rolling right in front of you

I had been thinking of it as two separate things—falling from the sky or digging up—but I think in reality, they might have been "right in front of me from the start." They were rolling right in front of me from the beginning; I just couldn't see them.

At the end of the day, humans can only generate ideas as an extension of what they have seen, heard, felt, and thought. It may seem like we are creating something from nothing, but in reality, we might have just noticed a small fragment that was already somewhere in our heads.

Thinking about it that way, I believe what is important is not the "power to generate ideas," but the "power to notice the ideas that are already there."

For example:
・The note I had been looking for was on my messy desk
・A conversation I overheard on the train became a hint
・From a faint memory of a book I read in the past

These are moments when I want to say to myself, "Hey, it was there the whole time!" I have encountered this often—thinking, "I knew this all along, why didn't I notice it?"—so I am writing it down in this article.

That is why time spent doing nothing is also important

I want to strengthen this power to notice. I think it is important to have a little breathing room in order to notice ideas that are right in front of you but invisible.

When you are overwhelmed by work and daily life, even if an idea is right there in front of you, you won't see it. That is why taking time to go for a walk, drink coffee, or just stare blankly at the sky is never a waste of time.

I like the phrase "keeping your antenna up," and I believe that if you always keep your sensitivity high and your antenna raised, it becomes easier to notice things, whether they are flashes of inspiration, deep insights, or ideas right in front of you.

Keeping your antenna up is a phrase that implies having a purpose.

I have a habit of taking morning walks, and I find this time very meaningful. I walk without deciding on a route or a time. It is usually about 30 minutes, but when I enter a thinking mode, I try to keep walking as long as that state lasts. Sometimes I realize I have been walking for over an hour.

It is interesting that the less you do, the more discoveries like "Huh? This might be interesting" tend to descend upon you. The process of digging deeper into those flashes of inspiration is also easier to organize when you have peace of mind.

If you think of it, catch it immediately.

However, if you are not careful, the ideas you notice will disappear quickly. I want to avoid the task of trying to remember an idea once it has escaped, as it only increases mental frustration.

That is why the golden rule is to take a note the moment you think, "Oh!" When I am walking, I use voice-to-text to leave notes on my iPhone.

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This is the conclusion of my "theory of ideas." What is important is not hidden far away, but is actually rolling around right in front of you. It is just a matter of whether or not you can notice it.

Article written about keeping your antenna up ↓