My Creative Act 

Dr Phil Maffetone

Rick Rubin is more than an interesting guy, and in private a man of few words. This is how I learned so much from him. Words did not get in the way. There were times in Los Angeles we’d go out for a great dinner and say more to the waiter than to each other. Yet we shared important ideas. Likewise in the studio while listening to a band recording; I discovered Rick used fewer words to help others accomplish great things. Despite knowing much less about the technical parts of music than the musicians, he knew something more essential—how it should feel. 

As a legendary music producer—more creative director, editor, and mentor—Rick is the author of The Creative Act: A Way of Being, a highly successful bestselling book.

When I began playing my new songs for Rick to evaluate there would often be very little spoken. His honest and blunt approach was with fewer words to express essential feelings. 

As a new songwriter hoping to learn music style, structure, its many rules, and more, I quickly discovered they were much less important. The feel was key; those silent sensations appearing when a new song starts flowing out of the brain—the mind—or the magic moments of its afterglow. This was the quiet and powerful experience of the creative act. 

Sure, on occasion we’d discuss certain aspects of the music or lyrics, especially with other musicians. But it was the emotional impact of those conversations not the particular words that helped most. This came through the silence. I realized it was something already ingrained in me.

Other than mentioning Rick as an integral part of my songwriting career or getting a quote for one of my health articles or books, our professional relationship has mostly been private. It’s one not easily put into words until someone recently recommended a podcast interview of Rick discussing how his creative world works. It was amazing, albeit no surprise; his attempt at explaining success in music and writing is not only what I did in my healthcare career, but now as a songwriter too. 

We originally came together for separate personal self-interests spending several years in the same house in the Hollywood Hills. I would write songs and learn how to play them while following him around to studios producing bands or individual songwriters. As the proverbial fly on the wall in a world previously known only as a music consumer, I was now meeting and working with people whose music I first heard as a kid; and appreciating the silence more than ever.

Silence permits us to peruse the feelings of others. It’s a joining of minds, a quiet conversation. Feeling other’s feelings first comes in infancy. That awareness contributed to success early in my clinical career during lectures at conferences, writing articles, and working with individuals. Specific brain cells associated with being ‘wired’ to others are called mirror neurons—we ‘see’ each other discreetly. Combined with music, humans communicated this way for over a million years before the use of language.

Some people have difficulty relating to others in silence because it breeds discomfort. This was experienced in my clinical work with patients and athletes—the silent periods helped the interaction. But those who became uncomfortable launched into babbling about things that were not pertinent. A diminished clinical outcome often resulted.

Silent feelings are relied upon when formulating new clinical tools or writing scientific research. Discoveries came out of the silence, helping translate complex information into something relatively simple and useful. 

Healthy silence is meditation. It allows us to go unencumbered where we’ve never gone before. Only then could we uncover or discover a particular answer, something special, unique, or completely unexpected; The aha! moment. Rediscovering it led me to create music by letting it flow out.

Working with Rick was a reciprocation, an interchange of our respective skills. It wasn’t work in the usual way, rather silently acknowledging and allowing each other’s separate journeys. 

It was not unusual for us to have conversations about songwriting philosophy that turned to food and exercise. These were like meditations too; a big picture silent haze surrounded us—the quietness that carries understanding.

While wandering through life encountering other people expands our minds, it transforms us in special ways, even subconsciously. How Rick and I evolved can’t easily be put into words, which is less important. It’s the silent journey.

After leaving LA, my music voyage continued with creating, recording, and performing music with nine albums and various singles along the way. Included were other endeavors too, like creating new clinical research. While Rick and I keep in touch, the silence remains—the feelings and meditations of the experiences and all it spawned. These creative acts are ongoing in our brains more than today’s texts and phone calls.

Meanwhile, Rick continues his journey. In addition to music production, The Creative Act is now complemented by other presentations including podcasts.

Life’s journey is our opportunity to develop into a more complete human. It’s a natural creative act of composing a world more rewarding, fun, and healthy. Along the way, let’s stop to smell the flowers, listen to the music, and also take a bow. 

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