Make things better by making better things.
When you first read Harold and the Purple Crayon, it’s hard not to feel the wonder and magic of a world where anything is possible. You could do what Harold did: draw your own moon and sidewalk, fight dragons, jump on a boat, taste nine different flavors of pie, fly in a hot air balloon, fall out of that hot air balloon, save yourself from the fall—all before heading off to bed.
For a child, it sparks so much imagination, curiosity, wonder, problem-solving, creativity, artistry, and power.
As an adult, though, there’s a twinge of jealousy. Look how much freedom, autonomy, and agency Harold has! It’s tempting to think, If I just had a purple crayon, my life would be so much easier. But we know magical purple crayons don’t exist. And honestly, many adults, if handed a magic purple crayon, would probably just draw a big pile of money.
What a boring way to use your imagination.
Magical purple crayons may not exist, but we can’t pretend there isn’t a kind of magic in our world that simply didn’t exist 200 years ago. The laptop I’m typing on, the internet, the smartphone, clean water from the tap, the humble level, standardized measurements, penicillin, a refrigerator—the list goes on and on. These are everyday miracles we barely notice anymore because the technology is everywhere.
And now we have AI, as close as we’ve ever come to a real-life purple crayon. Yet again, so many of us rush to figure out how to monetize it, convincing ourselves, Once I make money with this, then I’ll finally be creative. But it doesn’t work that way. We choose to be creative first. Maybe the money comes later. Maybe. But the money isn’t the point.
Harold doesn’t actually teach us that we need a magical purple crayon to feel what he felt. The tools are everywhere now. What we really need is to become curious again. To use our imaginations. To be brave enough to make art. That’s when we tap into the same sense of power Harold had.