By contrast, some of us are perpetual “learners” who find or create many situations in which we must engage the accommodation process. We either seek out new experiences or find a “good” reason to consider what is new and different in even the settings where we often dwell. As someone who is a strong “accommodator” we are always “taking notes” about what is to be learned. David Kolb (1983) has written extensively about these two different approaches to learning, as well as identifying process related to divergence (focusing on differences) and convergence (focusing on similarities).
Creativity: Most of the time there are shifts between the processes of assimilation and accommodation as a function of adaptation to environmental changes or changes in our perception of the environment. As Piaget suggests, they are two sides of the same coin. And we often flip the coin in order to be adaptive. On occasion, there is a different reason to engage both assimilation and accommodation.
These two processes can be intertwined to serve a creative purpose. I recently experienced this intertwining when listening to Gabriela Ortiz’s Violin Concerto (Altar de Cuerda). First, there are themes that we know well and can easily assimilate; these are followed by themes that are new to us and require that we adjust that to which we are accustomed. Ortiz’s concerto is at the same time radically different and aligned with traditional musical forms.
On the one hand, I found when listening to this piece of music by Ortiz that it is unique and at times even disturbing. Yet, on the other hand, I felt perfectly comfortable listening to the elaborate, often rhythmic, and frequently soaring tones of this remarkable musical composition. There are gaps at times in this concerto as it makes some remarkable transitions. These musical moments of “nothingness” are some filled with the interplay between assimilating musical familiarity and accommodating musical departure. I suspect that many moments of creativity and innovation involve not so much a blending of accommodation and assimilation, as a novel juxtaposition of these two states—much as Gabriela Ortiz accomplishes.
Thrills
Many sources of thrill are available to us in the mid-21st Century, ranging from riding on a deep-drop roller coaster to watching a scary movie. As noted many years ago, an arousal jag can come from a ride on the Magnum XL or watching the man in the hockey mask rev up his chain saw. We somehow find it motivating to experience a temporary increase in our level of neural activation (arousal) (Berlyne, 1960).
Of even greater interest in studying the psychology of nothingness is to acknowledge that we can get this arousal jag when just imagining a ride on the roller coaster or sitting there affixed to our theater seat when the chain saw is started. Apparently, we can arouse ourself when moving from a blank screen in our mind (nothingness) to imagining a scary ride or scary moment (something thrilling).
Later, Csikszentmihalyi (1990) proposed that arousal may occur when we engage in an activity that is something we can accomplish, even though it is anxiety-producing. This experience of what Csikszentmihalyi calls Flow might be scaling a cliff or taking on a skilled rival in a game of chess. This highly motivating state of Flow is thrilling. Like the roller coaster or slasher movie, this thrill is produced in a transition from nothingness to something that is challenging yet realizable. Unlike the roller coaster or slasher movie, Flow is a form of thrill that is produced by something we do rather than just something we experience. However, as in the case of the coaster or slashing, we can experience a “vicarious” flow when simply imagining our rock climbing or chess match.
