November + Feeding Your Creative Work
I don’t know if it’s the full moon in Taurus, or that my second is almost 7 months, but I woke up this week wanting to make a vision board. I wrote a few months ago about how difficult it’s been for me to have dreams these past few years — between the responsibilities of parenthood, having two little ones at home, the state of the world, or just the massive life transition I’ve gone through when it comes to how I view and understand myself now that I am a mom. Waking up and wanting to make a vision board - to be inspired at all - is a beautiful, wonderful thing.
Related: Finding My Way Back: A Journey of Self-Discovery and Motherhood
Related: A Gentle Vision Board Process for When You Feel Uninspired
potatoes & Mossy Green
This month I’m drawn to simple homecooked meals, making art from what we have & the colour of mossy green. Our family word this month is “consolidate” — we have a list of projects that are started but not finished, especially in our home, so we are spending this month picking away at them rather than start anything new. The most inspiring thing to me right now is to practice the art - and it is an art - of follow-through.
feeding your creative work
I've also been thinking a lot about the cycle of life and death, specifically concerning my work and this blog. When my sister was visiting, I described this space as a "dull fire," embers left over from a creative era that was once big and beautiful. It never died; it just sat, waiting for me to feed it again. It’s interesting too, because our creative work is an extension of our soul - so in a way it’s felt as if this space has been here, holding space, for when I would reeimerge from young motherhood.
writing to find myself
In a separate conversation, I was sharing with my husband about how challenging it’s been to write because I don’t know who I am anymore. And his words stopped me in my tracks — “but wasn’t writing how you found yourself?” I’ve been waiting to be inspired, to feel secure in myself, to feel sure of my subject matter, but reality is, I don’t have to write from a place of stability; I can choose to write my way into it. Wanting to appear all together is performance. Showing up and creating through the discomfort means I might actually achieve the stability I’ve been looking for.
The Art of Enough
I think the potato stamp on my vision board really symbolizes this thought — instead of needing more, or waiting for everything to be “perfect” and “right”, I can choose to make beauty from what I’ve already got.