The public has an appetite for anything about imagination -

The Hunger for Wonder: On Imagination and the Spirit of Creation

Hear, O listener of dreams and seeker of visions, the words of Steven Spielberg, master of the moving image and maker of modern myth: “The public has an appetite for anything about imagination — anything that is as far away from reality as is creatively possible.” In this saying lies a revelation about the human heart — that beneath the armor of reason and the weight of daily life, the soul yearns for wonder. It hungers for stories that lift it beyond the prison of the ordinary, for visions that free it from the dust of the familiar. This appetite, Spielberg reminds us, is not a fleeting fancy of entertainment, but an eternal human need — the need to imagine, to dream, to behold worlds beyond the reach of the waking eye.

Spielberg, whose name is written among the legends of storytelling, knew well what he spoke of. He built his art upon the boundless sky of imagination, crafting realms where the impossible became intimate. From the tender alien of E.T., to the thunderous beasts of Jurassic Park, to the eternal stars of Close Encounters, he gave shape to that secret hunger that lives within all who dream. For he understood that the public — the vast collective of humankind — may live in the realm of fact, but they long to visit the kingdom of imagination. Reality feeds the body, but imagination feeds the spirit.

This truth is as old as the human story itself. When the first tribes gathered around the fire, before there were cities or written words, the storyteller was already there — the one who could speak of things unseen. He told of gods who moved the sun, of spirits that lived in the rivers, of heroes who fought in the realm of dreams. Those tales were not falsehoods; they were mirrors of the human soul, reflections of our endless quest for meaning. Imagination, even then, was the torch that lit the dark. It carried our minds beyond survival and taught us what it meant to live.

Consider the great poet Homer, who sang of Odysseus and his endless voyage. The Greeks knew that no mortal had truly faced such monsters or walked among such enchantments, yet they listened as if he spoke of life itself. For through the imaginative voyage, they found a reflection of their own struggles — the longing to return home, the battle against temptation, the courage to endure. What Homer gave was not escape, but illumination. So too does Spielberg’s art, and every act of imagination, awaken that same truth: that the unreal, when told with creative fire, brings us closer to the real essence of the human heart.

Spielberg’s words also carry a quiet warning — that imagination must be used not as distraction, but as creation. The appetite of the public is powerful; it can be fed with emptiness or with vision. When imagination is shallow, it leads to illusion and escape. But when it is creative, when it reaches “as far away from reality as is creatively possible,” it does not deny the world — it expands it. It invites us to see the possible within the impossible, to find new meanings within familiar lives. This is why true imagination is not mere fantasy; it is a higher form of truth.

Every age has its visionaries — those who dare to take the leap from the known into the infinite. Leonardo da Vinci painted dreams of flight centuries before the sky belonged to humankind. Jules Verne imagined voyages beneath the sea and beyond the stars long before they could be built. And in the modern age, Spielberg carried that same torch through the art of cinema, reminding humanity that imagination is not a toy, but a bridge between what is and what could be. Through his work, the child within every adult was reawakened — the part that still believes in magic, in awe, in the mystery of creation itself.

So, O dreamer of tomorrow, take this teaching into your heart: do not let the world’s noise smother your imagination. Do not mistake cynicism for wisdom, nor believe that the real is all that is true. Feed your mind with stories, music, visions, and wonder. Imagine boldly — not to flee from life, but to transform it. For every act of imagination adds light to the world’s great tapestry; every dream dared becomes a path for others to follow. The appetite of humanity for wonder will never die — and it is your task, your sacred inheritance, to keep feeding it.

Thus, as Steven Spielberg teaches, imagination is both the feast and the flame — the eternal nourishment of the spirit. The public hungers for it because it reminds them who they are: beings not bound by stone and flesh, but born from thought, from story, from the mysterious breath of creation. To imagine, then, is to live fully; to create, is to love humanity enough to give it hope. So dream well, create bravely, and remember: the world may demand reality, but the heart will always hunger for imagination — for through it, we touch the divine.