The Book of Levaire - Chapter 1 (Sneak Peak)

From The Book of Levaire: Creator's Guide to Healthy Creativity by Rodney "Levaire Wonder" Pinner Jr.

Chapter 1: The Remembering 

Before there was Levaire Wonder, there was Rodney. 

Before there was Wondereum, there were drawings. 

Before I understood creativity as something I could build a life around, I was simply a child trying to understand the world around me. 

And one of the earliest things I remember wondering about wasn't art, music, or even creativity. 

It was a question about the human mind. 

Do other people have thoughts too? 

I remember sitting on the stoop in front of my house at about 5 years old wondering if everyone had that little voice inside their head—the voice that thinks, questions, imagines, remembers, worries, dreams, and talks to itself. 

I knew I had one. 

But how could I know that someone else had one? 

I couldn't hear their thoughts. 

They couldn't hear mine. 

That realization fascinated me. 

Even as a child, I was curious about the invisible worlds that existed inside people. There was the world I could see around me, and then there was this completely different world happening inside my mind. 

I didn't have the vocabulary for psychology, consciousness, spirituality, or creativity back then. 

I just knew that there was something happening inside of me. 

And I wanted to understand it. 

The World I Was Born Into 

My childhood was chaotic. 

Both of my parents struggled with alcoholism, and growing up in that environment exposed me to experiences that no child should have to carry. There was trauma. There was instability. There was poverty. There were circumstances that forced me to experience parts of life long before I had the emotional understanding to process them. 

When you're a child, you don't necessarily understand why your environment is the way it is. 

You simply live in it. 

You adapt to it. 

You learn how to navigate it. 

And eventually, you begin developing ways to cope with it. 

For me, one of those ways was creating. 

I drew. 

Drawing gave me somewhere to go without physically going anywhere. 

When the world around me felt chaotic, I could put a pencil to paper and create a world that not only made sense to me but felt right. 

I could decide what happened. 

I could decide what things looked like. 

I could create characters who possessed qualities I admired. 

I could take something that existed only in my imagination and give it a physical form. 

And perhaps most importantly, nobody could tell me what my imagination was supposed to look like. That was freedom! 

The Blue Hedgehog 

One of my earliest creative obsessions was Sonic the Hedgehog. I loved Sonic and I still do! I collected Sonic comic books, and eventually I started drawing my own. I would create full comic books featuring Sonic and his adventures, almost as if I were making my own versions of the comics I loved reading. 

Looking back, I can see why that character resonated with me. 

Sonic was unique. 

He was a blue hedgehog who could run incredibly fast. He was strong, confident, witty, and cool. He could get himself out of situations that seemed impossible because he possessed abilities that made him different from everyone else. 

There was something about that that captivated me. 

But I wasn't simply drawing a character. 

I was exploring qualities that fascinated me. 

Speed. Strength. Confidence. Freedom. Uniqueness. 

And maybe, without realizing it, I was also exploring the possibility of being someone who could move through difficult circumstances without allowing those circumstances to define who he was. 

I didn't sit down as a child and consciously think about any of that. I simply drew. 

That's important because children don't always need a reason to create. 

They don't ask whether their drawing is marketable. 

They don't always wonder whether they're talented enough. 

They don't worry about whether their idea will perform well on social media. 

They don't calculate their return on investment. 

They don't ask whether their creativity is impressive enough to earn approval from strangers. 

They simply want to make something. 

And that distinction is at the heart of this chapter. 

Before We Became Adults 

Before you became the person you are today, you were a child. There was a version of you who hadn't yet learned all of the rules. 

A version of you who didn't know what careers were supposed to look like. 

A version of you who didn't understand social expectations. 

A version of you who hadn't yet learned to compare yourself to everyone around you. 

A version of you who could become completely fascinated by something simply because it was interesting. 

Maybe you drew. 

Maybe you danced. 

Maybe you sang into a hairbrush. 

Maybe you built things out of cardboard. 

Maybe you wrote stories. 

Maybe you took things apart just to understand how they worked. 

Maybe you were constantly asking questions. 

Maybe you invented imaginary worlds. 

Maybe you loved performing. 

Maybe you collected things. 

Maybe you spent hours outside exploring. 

Maybe you had an entire universe living inside your head. 

And then you grew up. 

Life happened. 

School happened. 

Family happened. 

Relationships happened. 

Responsibilities happened. 

Trauma happened. 

Failure happened. 

Expectations happened and somewhere along the way, many of us began learning how to perform. Not perform in the artistic sense. Perform in the sense of becoming who we believed we needed to be. We were taught how to behave appropriately. 

How to dress appropriately. 

How to speak appropriately. 

How to pursue an "acceptable" career. 

How to make our families proud. 

How to fit into social groups. 

How to become successful. 

How to look successful. 

How to avoid judgment. 

How to hide the parts of ourselves that seemed strange. 

How to become good at things other people value. 

Eventually, we can become so good at performing that we forget there was ever a difference between the performance and the person underneath it. 

The Creator Beneath the Performance 

This is why I believe that healthy creativity begins with self-awareness. 

Before you create, there is you. 

There is your history. 

There are your experiences. 

There are your memories. 

There are your fears. 

There are your passions. 

There are the things that made you laugh as a child. 

There are the things that made you curious. 

There are the things that made you feel powerful. 

There are the things that made you feel safe. 

There are the things that helped you escape. 

There are the things you loved before you ever cared whether anyone else loved them too. 

All of these things can become clues. 

Clues to who you were. 

Clues to who you are. 

And sometimes, clues to who you still want to become. 

This doesn't mean that childhood was perfect. 

For many people, it wasn't. 

Childhood can contain some of our happiest memories and some of our most painful ones. 

For me, there were experiences of trauma, instability, and poverty that shaped the way I viewed myself and the world around me. 

But there was also a child who wondered about consciousness. 

A child who illustrated. 

A child who created comic books. 

A child who could become fascinated by a blue hedgehog and spend hours imagining adventures. 

Both realities belong to me. 

The painful experiences are part of my story. 

But they are not the entirety of my story. 

And that's an important distinction for creators to understand. 

Your past may influence your creativity, but it does not have to imprison it. 

Your Childhood May Know Something You Forgot 

One of the most valuable exercises a creator can do is revisit their childhood—not to romanticize it, and not to pretend that everything was good, but to remember who they were before they became so concerned with who they were “supposed to be.” 

Ask yourself: 

• What fascinated me? 

• What did I create without being asked? 

• What could I spend hours doing? 

• What did I constantly talk about? 

• What made me curious? 

• What did I want to learn? 

• What did I imagine becoming? 

• What made me feel free? 

• What did I love before somebody told me it wasn't practical? 

And perhaps most importantly: 

What parts of myself did I stop expressing as I grew older? 

You may discover that the child you were still has something to teach the adult you've become. 

Maybe you don't need to become that child again. 

Maybe you simply need to listen to them. 

Children often create from a place that adults spend years trying to find again: 

Authenticity! 

They aren't necessarily trying to establish a brand. 

They're not trying to build a portfolio. 

They're not trying to impress an algorithm. 

They're not trying to become somebody else. 

They're exploring. 

They're experimenting. 

They're playing. 

They're discovering. 

They're expressing. 

And somewhere between childhood and adulthood, many of us begin replacing "I wonder what I can create?" with "I wonder what people will think of what I create?" 

That's a profound shift. 

The first question opens the imagination. 

The second can close it. 

Your Creativity Has a History 

When I look back at the child who used to draw Sonic comic books, I don't simply see a kid who liked to draw. 

I see the beginning of a creative identity. 

I see a child who found a way to turn imagination into something tangible. 

I see someone who discovered that a pencil and a piece of paper could create an escape from reality. 

I see someone who was fascinated by characters who were different. 

I see someone who was drawn toward confidence, strength, individuality, and freedom. 

I didn't understand those things intellectually at the time. 

Perhaps my creativity understood them before I did. 

Maybe yours did too. 

Your creativity didn't suddenly appear when you became an adult. 

It has a history. 

It may have started with crayons on construction paper. 

A song you made up. 

A character you invented (or an imaginary friend). 

A dance you performed when nobody was watching. 

A story you wrote. 

A Lego creation. 

A camera. 

A video game you mastered. 

A notebook full of ideas. 

A bedroom transformed into a studio. 

A hobby that everyone else thought was weird. 

Or maybe your creativity showed up simply as the way you constantly imagined possibilities. 

That matters. 

Because creativity isn't just about producing art. 

Creativity is the ability to imagine that something can be different from what it currently is. 

If you can imagine something differently, you possess the beginning of creation. 

Before You Create, Come Back to Yourself 

I don't believe every creator needs to dig endlessly into their childhood. 

I don't believe we need to live in the past. 

What I do believe is that there is tremendous value in remembering. 

Remembering what made us curious. 

Remembering what made us passionate. 

Remembering what made us feel alive. 

Remembering the things we loved before we learned to measure their value through someone else's eyes. 

Because adulthood can teach us how to function. 

But sometimes, it can also teach us how to perform. 

Healthy creativity asks us to find the balance between functioning in the world and remaining connected to ourselves. 

You can grow up without growing away from yourself. 

You can become responsible without becoming emotionally disconnected. 

You can develop discipline without destroying your sense of play. 

You can become successful without allowing success to dictate your identity. 

You can become an adult without abandoning the curious person who existed before the world told you who you were supposed to be. That child is not necessarily waiting for you to go backward. They may simply be waiting for you to remember. 

Remember the questions. 

Remember the curiosity. 

Remember the imagination. 

Remember the things that made you lose track of time. 

Remember the things you created before you cared whether they were good. 

Remember what it felt like to make something simply because you wanted to see it exist. 

Before you can create authentically, you have to become willing to meet yourself authentically. 

Before there is the artist, there is the person. 

Before there is the song, there is the emotion. 

Before there is the painting, there is the perspective. 

Before there is the story, there is the experience. 

Before there is the creation, there is the creator. 

And before there was the creator you are today, there was a child who was already trying to tell the world something. Maybe it's time to listen.