I’m back. It’s been a lovely two weeks in which I’ve simply let my soul breathe. I’ve spent little time online, and much time in the very present moment with my family. I feel refreshed, excited, and inspired.
I didn’t know how much I needed the time away.
I’ve spent a lot of time pondering the creative process in our two weeks on the road. Instead of creating, I’ve thought about the simple art of creating – the act of writing, of photographing, of painting and singing. I’ve watched it and seen it and felt the power of the creative arts.
I stood at the top of the Smoky Mountains, and I marveled at the Creator’s brush strokes – the Hand that carved each path, shaped each height.
I’ve watched my children laugh and play. I’ve listened to their delight as they discovered the thrill of shooting a sling shot, exploring a creek bed, walking beneath a waterfall. I’ve gasped in motherly fear when one got too close to the edge, and tried to be cool though images of them plummeting over the side gave me more than a few heart attacks.
We spent a week in Nashville catching up with friends, both new and old. The laughter and shared life gave way to gratefulness. And not once or twice, but more times than I can count, the conversation of creativity came up. It’s not hard to find yourself amidst a group of creatives in a place like Nashville.
The town is teeming with creativity.
For those of us with a bent toward the creative arts, every day has new potential. We wake up with the longing to build, to shape and mold something out of nothing.
Song lyrics.
Stories.
Melodies.
Paintings.
Delicacies.
Decor.
It’s very real, this life of the creative. We don’t always know how to describe it, but we feel it deeply. We know that we were made to create. Some days that creative power flows freely, while other days it tends to bottle up. Life responsibilities sometimes hinder the creative process, but still it sits, waiting for us to tap in and unleash.
I used to think I was alone in this creative life. It made me feel strange, this need to sit down and write, to pen stories for no reason at all. I wondered if my passion for the written word was frivolous. It doesn’t make me much money, so what’s the point?
The point, I’m realizing more and more, is that this art of creating is my act of worship. When I write, I am in communion with my God. The rhythm of the keyboard is my praise offering to Him.
And for you, my fellow creatives, it is very much the same.
That thing you do? It’s an act of worship. You were created with a love for your art, and it is legitimate and real. What you do is a valid form of worship, so give it back freely and joyfully. Don’t be ashamed of your art, and don’t fight the urge to create. Your creative brain holds purpose in this world.
You are a mirror of the Creator Himself. So create.
I am giving myself permission to do something that I haven’t allowed myself to do in the six and a half years I’ve been blogging.
I am going to take a break.
Funny story: Last week, Lee and I decided to take a spontaneous family trip to Gatlinberg, Tennessee. We rarely take vacations just the five of us – in fact, I honestly am not sure we’ve ever taken a vacation just the five of us. Most of our trips consist of traveling with people, or traveling to see people.
The problem is, I got my dates wrong. I was certain that I made our hotel reservation for Wednesday to Sunday, with the plan being we would leave Tuesday, drive half way, and arrive Wednesday. So I’ve been frantically trying to get us packed and ready to leave tomorrow for three weeks away, because after Gatlinberg, we’re sending Tia to camp in Crossville, TN, while the rest of us go to Nashville. And from there, we’re all headed to Arkansas for a week.
Are you exhausted, yet?
I realized just this morning that our hotel reservations are actually Thursday to Sunday, which means we’re leaving a day later than planned, which kind of disappoints me, honestly. But I’m also a bit relieved because trying to pack for three weeks in three different locations was giving me palpitations.
My brain is on serious summer overload, which normally wouldn’t be too much of a problem; however, I happen to be 64 27 weeks pregnant, which means sleep is already elusive. Add to that a little stress, and this mama ends up tired and emotional.
In an effort to not throw myself into an early labor, I’m unloading a few things from my plate. I simply don’t have the mental capacity to generate decent blog content right now. As it is, I already have a few deadlines pressing down on me for other sites (the ones that actually pay me to write), and I’m in the final stages of editing my e-book, which I will hopefully get to the designer in the next few days.
So I’m going to take a couple of weeks off in this space. I’m going to breathe a little, enjoy my family, read a few books, unplug, and take in a little fresh, mountain air.
I’ll be updating on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter on occasion if you want to keep up with our family and see whether or not it really was a good idea to take a trip to the mountains at 28 weeks pregnant.
Also, Lee and I are attending a celebrity charity dinner in Nashville on Sunday night. Tune in to see what my gigantic belly looks like in a nice dress, and to see if I get to rub elbows with Carrie Underwood, or if I simply stalk her from across the room.
I’ll come back here in a couple of weeks when the dust of family fun time has settled, and I can string together a coherent sentence outside of, “Did you pack your toothbrush? What about underwear?”
In the meantime, I hope all of you are enjoying some fun in the sun this summer break. Sit back with a good book, a tall glass of iced tea (sweetened, of course), and take some time to breathe.
Creativity is just connecting things. When you ask creative people how they did something, they feel a little guilty because they didn’t really do it, they just saw something. It seemed obvious to them after a while. That’s because they were able to connect experiences they’ve had and synthesize new things.” Steve Jobs
For people prone to creative outbursts, the world can be a wildly glorious place. It’s colorful and exciting, lit with life in a way that those more prone to thoughtfulness and analytical considerations may have a hard time understanding.
Creatives can also be frustrating people.
They process the world differently, and this can making working alongside them sometimes harder to tolerate. There are different levels of creativity that people can express as well, and this works to makes each person act and react differently.
Some creatives are shy, quietly mulling each step inwardly until all the pent up energy releases in their art, be that writing, music, drawing/painting, building, and so on. These brooding creatives make us nervous. We don’t understand what they’re thinking because the thoughts all tangle tight inside, and so we watch them from afar, admire their work, and comment on their inability to hold a decent conversation.
Some of the greatest innovations of all time, the greatest works of art, have come from these brooding creatives.
Other creative types are much more engaged in the world around them. They live in it, fully and completely, abandoning themselves to the little moments. These people are usually quick-witted, funny, engaging, and can be the life of the party.
Or the center of attention.
All of us are creatives on some level. Created in the image of the Ultimate Creator, we have no choice but to give in to the creative impulses unique to each one of us.
Here are 3 Keys to Tapping into Your Inner Creativity.
1.) Learn how you individually are most creative.
Make no mistake, you are in some way a creative. Even mathematicians have a perspective that flows out of the creative nature of man’s soul. Perhaps there is more formula involved in the problem solving, but the fact remains they still had to tap into the inner mind to decipher the solution.
And you can’t tell me that the likes of Isaac Newton, Blaise Pascal, Albert Einstein (recognizing that he would probably be identified more as a physicist than a mathematician), and Galileo Galilei, who famously wrote, “Mathematics is the language in which God has written the universe,” were not all deeply creative and inventive men.
2.) Learn when you feel most creative.
Do you thrive in the quiet? Are you most thoughtful, productive and sure of yourself when you withdraw from a crowd and quiet your soul?
Perhaps it is quite the opposite. Maybe you’re the type who energizes only in a room full of people. Do you feel most alive in front of a crowd, and is laughter and raucous talk your muse?
Most deeply creative types are going to spend more time alone than in a group. There’s something about the quiet that recharges the brain. However, while some would happily spend all their time alone with only their thoughts to keep them company, there are many who need a group setting to further fuel their creative prowess. Extroverts, we would call them, as creativity comes in sound bites of conversation and entertainment.
3.) Embrace Your Creative Bent
There is power in knowing who you are and how you were created. Entertainers keep us laughing (and thinking) through their actions. Musicians feed our souls with melodies and lyrics. Artists show us the world on canvas. Writers take us into a different time and place, introducing us to new concepts, new characters, new ideas, and new ways of thinking.
Scientists take us inside the molecular space in which we reside. Mathematicians show us there is order to life and space. Inventors give us new tools. Designers help us see the space we live in in a whole new way. Businessmen (and women) link ideas and innovation in such a way that gives us structure in this world.
Parents foster a creative spirit inside the walls of their homes. Grandparents take that a step further, creating memories and filling their grandchildren with unmerited love (and perhaps a little bit of candy for good measure).
I could go on and on, but hopefully you get the point, with the point being this:
You are creative. It’s just a matter of looking in the right place to understand exactly how you were wired to tap into the creative energy with which you were designed.
This is the fourth year I’ve gathered with my group of like-minded, creative friends, and every year I find myself more blessed by our time together. Each person here is so uniquely gifted and blessed, and I learn so much from them. My soul is nourished, and I find myself lost in my craft.
Today I finished my e-book. Stay tuned, because my hope is to have it published within the next few weeks.
This year, each one of us has new ventures that we are developing, and during the quiet hours of the day, we’re deepening our skills, supporting one another in our respective crafts, and sharing delicious meals filled with conversation and laughter.
It’s truly inspiring to be here, and I find myself more and more wanting to pull other women into this fold. It’s a dream that’s turning into a goal, and this weekend is fanning the flame.
As I go back to my work, I’ll leave you with a few photos of our days here. I’ve been so focused on my book that I haven’t spent much time photographing our amazing, Southern California surroundings, nor have I been overly drawn to blogging. My brain has been fully engaged in this one project, and I’m so thrilled to have finished it today.
So without further ado, I give you Scenes from a Creative Retreat
I’ve had three posts go live this week, so rather than try to write some more words, I think I’ll just share the ones I’ve already labored over. So, without further ado…
She said the words softly, her voice halting as she looked forward out the front window. I leaned a little closer, trying to decode the sentence. My Russian is rusty, and though I understood each word, when strung together with the many grammar rules, I couldn’t quite figure out exactly what she was asking.
“What?” I asked. A single word in her tongue seemed to give her a little more confidence. She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye and took a deep breath.
“I will call you Mama?” she asked.
It took a minute for the words, and the meaning behind them, to sink in. She had only been with us for three days, so I worried that maybe I was still not fully understanding.
“You want to call me Mama?” I asked. She looked at me with glistening eyes and nodded.
“Is it okay?” she asked.
I nodded back, wordless not because I couldn’t find the words in Russian, but because the lump in my throat had blocked all sound.
Last Christmas we hosted a young girl in our home for one month. Through an organization called New Horizons for Children, we had the blessing of opening our home to “K,” a child who knew more heartache in her short 17 years than I likely will in my lifetime.
Abandonment. Death of a parent. Life in an institution. Loneliness and fear.
These are words that identified her past, but in our home, we had the privilege of telling her that she is loved, she is worthy, she has value on this earth, and she will always have an advocate.
I’ve been asked several times what I think about orphan hosting through programs such as New Horizons, and others like them, that bring children to the United States each summer and winter.
There are Pros and Cons, and I’d like to offer my thoughts on these hosting programs.
When I had my first child, everything shifted. I welcomed the shift, because as I held his warm body next to mine, I realized that the entire meaning of my life had now taken a new course. No one can really prepare you for that when you are expecting your first child. It’s simply something that happens. It’s a good thing.
t can also lead to an identity crisis.
Before having children, I operated in full freedom. Putting faith in action seemed so much easier then, because I could get up and go when I felt like I needed to. Add a child to the mix, however, and suddenly everything gets a little more complicated. It happened rather slowly. In fact, I didn’t even realize it was happening until many years later, when I had three children, all pulling at my feet and vying for my undivided attention.
“Mom, I have three different things I could do when I grow up, and I don’t how to decide.”
I suppressed a smile at the earnest concern in her voice. Genuine worry laced her eight year old face, and I pulled her close to me on the couch. This is the child who hates to make decisions. She’s so fearful of making the wrong decision that even breakfast can turn into an ordeal of tears if not handled with grace and patience.
“Well,” I said gently, “what are your options?”
“I want to be a gymnast’s coach, a soccer coach, or a doctor. But I also want to be a mom. How will I decide what to do?”
My first born ambled up at that point. He’s trapped in that phase right now between boy and man. He’s long and sinewy, all knees and elbows. He still dreams like a child, but I see the practicality creeping in.
“I’m going to be a missionary,” he says. “I want to help people who don’t have anything. Or…” he pauses, conflicted. “Well, I kind of want to be a professional golfer, too.”
They both look at me then, as though I will have all the answers to these life decisions that seem so important right now. Before the youthful freckles have faded, and the white blonde strands of hair darken into a more mature golden, they want to know the future. They want me to tell them what to do.
