We often overlook the power of quiet in our world. For many creatives, finding that quiet space can be difficult.
What do you do when the quiet finds you, and won’t leave?
We have been subjected to isolation few have known before. For some, this has created safe spaces to create, even given us a boost. We have taken stock and finish projects. It’s been thrilling!
But, It’s been over a year. How do you keep your creativity thriving when you can’t watch the hustle and bustle of everyday life from your favorite coffee shop window, when trips that feed your inspiration are discouraged? What do you do when it’s been weeks since your last conversation with another adult, and all you hear in your own brain is baby talk and cartoon theme songs? Or even just silence, and the silence is weighting on you, crushing your creativity.
Get basic.
It’s time to remember your ‘why’. What do I mean by that?
Every person engaging in their creativity has a why, an underlying reason they create. What’s yours?
For me, it’s not a choice. I must write or I get sick. It’s how my brain puts pieces together and manages stress. It’s how I entertain and am entertained. I dream, think, and live in a world of words. My why?
I write to understand myself and the word.
What is your why?
Whatever form your creativity takes, revisit your why. After you hold it in my mind and heart again, ask yourself, is it still enough? Has it changed this past year? Should it change?
I can’t answer those questions for you. I will trust you can find the answers. After you remember your why, it’s time to practice.
Practice? Yes, practice.
Sometimes creatives believe the lie that, “We always need to have a project going.” That is not true.
When you are tired, lonely, depressed, give your brain and heart a rest. Revisit things you know best like the beginning strokes of a painting, the simple forms of poetry you played with as a child.
Hop, mop, clop!
Let your brain wonder through small things.
What does your coffee smell like?
Is there a word to describe the wind chimes outside on the back porch?
If your art is more physical, return to the exercises your body knows. Muscle memory is powerful.
Pick up your guitar and play Mary Had A little lamb. Let your fingers roam over the strings, finding the notes your heart loves best, a favorite song. Just sing.
Then take a brake.
Put it down, walk away, play with the kids. Phone Mom! Send your girlfriend a hand-written letter. Let creativity grow. Once you start something, it will call to you. Your heart and mind will tell you when to engage with creativity.
Do you hear her calling you?
When you do, it’s then that your heart is ready to learn from her again. This road of creativity in loneliness is difficult. But if you feed that flame inside, it won’t die. Be kind to yourself.
I used to sit in the field making wishes on dandelion fluff.
I once rolled through the tall grasses, collecting the white seeds on my clothes and dark curls. Helping them spread as I ran back to the house, arms outstretched.
“I can fly!” I would cry, and daydream of Peter Pan and Tinkebell.
It was my life’s spring.
Now I watch my own children wading through puddles. The freshness on their cheeks and sweaters always flavored with a hint of damp growth when coming home from an evenings play.
But I still dream of fairy wings and mermaid foam.
My sisters and I used to rub our cheeks yellow with dandelion buds, and weave tiny field daises in to wreathes for our head.
Now I watch my own girls pick wildflowers and supervise as all kinds of pretend soups are mixed in sandbox buckets with sticks that are just as much magic wands as they are spoons.
The right now is there spring.
The scent of fresh tree blossoms might hold different meanings for me then they once did. But it doesn’t matter what age you are, if you listen closely with your heart they will share wisdom with you.
I find myself pressing in to the simple things of life. Constantly reminded that my spirit has been calling for quiet for years, and now that I have it, it shouldn’t be abandoned. I never imagined God would use a pandemic to gift me rest. Despite the pain of isolation, he has helped me flourish in the last twelve months. I write this as my reminder to not forget.
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