A Recommitment to Creativity

With my last post appearing in July of 2020, I really thought maybe the pandemic was the end of this blog. Creativity was drying up. The urge to connect was drained by the Zoom calls and Facetimes I was forced to use just to connect with those closest to me. It felt as though I had nothing left to say and this project had served it’s purpose.

But then I started the year off on a different foot. Thinking about building momentum and a future despite the stagnant nature of our daily lives. It was a good idea with good intentions but all the same January was a rough start. Everything felt chaotic and yet the same every day. I felt unsupported at work, lost in my writing, a bit misplaced. Like someone had put me on the wrong shelf at the store. Sure I was safe, but everything felt incorrect and the good things that were looking for me would never be able to find me on that shelf.

I had to realign. I had to get back to MY shelf.

I started reading self-help books again, meditating daily, exploring the idea that has truly haunted me (and probably most of you) my whole life “what in the hell am I doing here?” This question can either torment you or motivate you. And in January I was letting it torment me. With some fine tuning, I can feel myself moving back to motivation with this thought. What can I do with this life? What can I do now, each day, despite rarely having fresh ideas wash over me as they do in a foreign country or an airplane? How can I get uncomfortable with the comfortable?

I am still exploring this, I mean, it’s only March and I’ve spend most of 2021 pretty misguided and upset. Not sleeping. The whole situation I know so many of you are familiar with that I do not need to go on.

Creative work, like most of this life, takes recommitment. During bad times this is hardest to remember. It’s easy to remember when you’re in the light. You’re up above seeing each road block as necessary, sometimes as helpful. But when you’re in the dark you only remember the other dark times, as if lightness can’t be a memory. You have to go off of faith, that you’ve done this before, you know where your feet go. And go.

That’s not easy.

The ability to start again when you have lost momentum is painful. It’s slowest peel of largest band-aid. Take it slow. What brings you back to yourself? What has worked before? You may need to get creative in these pandemic-times. Get outside when you can. Buy plants. Light candles. You are a vessel for creativity, fill up on the right fuel to start your journey again.

And if you cannot now, that’s ok too. Animals hibernate. Trees shed their foliage. Rest.

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