Greetings to all creatives with alarmist tendencies!! Last week, we let the sonic fumes of a fire alarm interrupt us on purpose. We played with urgency, our Pavlovian responses, and not waiting for an actual fire to light up our observational skills. Like me, were you impressed that sound could reorganize a room full of adults into an awkward field trip? Perhaps our last prompt nudged you to reprogram a fire alarm’s call, or your own physical reactions, into something more helpful. I hope a few of you stepped outside without waiting for permission. No matter your response, I hope you found a few creative sparks in the beep-beep-beep of it all.
This week’s creative nudge is quieter. It doesn’t blare. It waits. It blinks in a little box and asks you to prove yourself. This week’s creative nudge is a password.
As a kid, my buddies and I created one to allow entrance into our tree fort. I would be denied entry today because I can’t remember it; but I bet we changed it all the time, and not because our IT department told us to. Passwords back then were less about security and more about belonging.
Now? We live in a world that does not trust enough. Or maybe it trusts us too much and needs constant reassurance. Every day we whisper secret combinations into glowing rectangles: first pet + favorite number + special character we will absolutely forget. We are told our passwords must be strong, unique, unknowable, never repeated, and easy to recall. They must include capital and lowercase letters. And numbers. Definitely requiring the shift or control key engaged on the keyboard.
And even then, digital overlords squint side-eye me and say, “Are you sure you’re you?” Enter the six-digit code we sent to your phone. Confirm via email. Click the link. Rotate your head. Blink twice. Have you uploaded your fingerprint yet? Face[plant] into the camera. The robots demand proof that we are embodied beings.
In books and movies, secret phrases move plots forward. “Open Sesame” from the Arabic folktale “Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves” is one of the oldest on record. The Marauder’s Map revealing itself only to those who know honesty is the best policy. Speakeasies of the last century opened with secret knocks. Don’t you want one of those eye level slots on your office door that open so you can judge people on the other side? Even in fairy tales, riddles and secret words guard treasure, knowledge, or transformation. A password gets you over the threshold, then the real fun begins.
Somewhere in a password manager lives a compressed autobiography of us all—first concert, old zip code, that dog you still miss, a favorite author, maiden name. We draw from memory to build protection. Is this intimacy as armor? Is that the best way to use our personal experiences? Perhaps something more creative is possible.
This week, instead of cursing your forgotten login, let’s spend a few minutes exploring passwords as portals—gateways to identity, intimacy, and imagination. Use one or more of these strong password suggestions to gain access to several minutes of creative contemplation:
Club Card: Create a password for an imaginary club you wish existed. Whisper it out loud. Write a short scene in which someone must say the password to enter. What happens if they mispronounce it?
Sign Language: Design a password using only shapes, colors, or symbols. Maybe even a series of photos from your digital archive. Consider how ancient cultures used pictographs and sigils as protective marks. Hang your visual password somewhere visible and see if it changes meaning throughout the week.
Safe Word: Create a playful word with someone you love—a phrase, gesture, or inside joke that’s just for you both. A squeeze of the hand twice. A ridiculous code word so your partner can rescue you from a bad conversation. How does it feel in your body to share a secret with another human?
Access Denied: Perform a dramatic monologue as if you are locked out of something important—not a bank account, but a memory, a dream, a former version of yourself. What is the password you need to get back in? Is it forgiveness? Courage? A scent? Record yourself or perform it in front of a mirror.
Puzzle Pal: Invent a simple logic game based on passwords. Create three imaginary doors into your self, using abstract ideas like “Bravery,” “Rest,” or “Creativity.” For each, write a riddle or rule that must be satisfied to enter that side of you. What would you have to believe, do, or surrender to gain access? Solve your own puzzle. Or better yet, share it with someone and see how they interpret the rules.
Passwords remind us that not everything is for everyone. Some doors require intention. Some knowledge requires readiness. And sometimes the act of choosing a password—of naming what matters enough to protect—is itself a creative declaration.
In moments that demand verification, perhaps the most radical act is deciding what deserves protection and what deserves sharing. Maybe your creative life doesn’t need a stronger password. Maybe it just needs you to remember it.
This column was written with the help of ChatGPT 5.2, used as a creative collaborator in my ongoing exploration of how humans can stay human in an era of unprecedented technological change.
