I’ve never really thought of myself as separate from my creative muse—more like a part of me splintered off somewhere along the interconnected paths of capitalism and productivity, a deeply buried creative horcrux.
But something is shifting.
Maybe it’s turning 52. Maybe it’s my husband retiring. Maybe it’s seeing my own perfectionism reflected in my child’s eyes. Maybe it’s the world going mad.
Maybe it’s all of it, pooling together, reshaping me in ways I don’t fully understand. Whatever the reason, I feel compelled—not just to write, but to create.
For so long, my drive was the force pulling me forward. The next goal, the next project, the next thing to accomplish. I carried it with me like a compass or talisman, certain of where I was headed, protected from chaos.
But now that drive seems to be slipping through my fingers, slowly lifting like an untethered balloon. I watch it rise and instead of scrambling to pull it back, I consider letting it go.
And yet, despite some guilt, I don’t feel empty.
Something else is stirring in its place, though I can’t yet see its shape. It’s softer, less urgent. It doesn’t demand, doesn’t measure, doesn’t push. It simply is.
Creativity swells in my heart, drawing me toward sharp pencils, messy palettes, and thick, textured paper. Mark-making shapes worlds just as words do—what we leave out, what we erase and replace, where we darken, where we add light.
And maybe that’s what I’m doing now, too. Erasing. Replacing. Lightening.
For the first time in a long time, I’m open to becoming. Or perhaps… returning.
And so we have begun to dance again, my creative muse and I—stretching our limbs. A paragraph here, a sketch there, a walk in the countryside (a nap *gasp*), playing outside the rigid lines of productivity, subverting my own unwritten rules.
It feels dangerous. Like I might never stop.
This post was in part inspired by a post I read by Aniela over at The View From My Desk about creativity being a living thing (do pop over and read it if you have the time).
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Michelle! I'm beyond honoured that if my post in any little way inspired yours. Thankyou so much for saying that, it really means the world to me. I was thinking of you a lot when I wrote mine, and words of yours that I've read! We're bouncing off eachother, how glorious.
It does feel dangerous....and good.