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Well, I’m back. After taking a sabbatical for the past year, I’m back here in this space, wanting to write again. So much has happened, and I miss this outlet. And in these crazy times, I think, no, I know there is such a NEED for creativity for our hearts, real life, and the deepest longings of our souls. I can’t say I have all the answers, but like you, I’m on a journey of learning, refining, and growing.
I’ve read mountains of books this past year, painted like there’s no tomorrow, homeschooled on good and bad days, walked day after day in the forest with my kiddo . . . to the point where we have now seen our forest through all the seasons pretty much seamlessly.
Why do I share this? Because I’ve learned that this creative life takes so many different forms. And I’d love to show you little bits of how you can also create in the mundane. How you can learn and absorb and grow the precious YOU through gentle care and watering over time.
I’ve sat at the kitchen table, grateful that I get to watch my daughter learn, that I get to be a part of this mystery. (Because at the end of the day, how our brains learn is astounding and breathtaking.) I’ve also sat there, head in my hands, wondering why I didn’t choose an easier, less-tasking-on-me route since curriculum doesn’t choose itself, since I want to provide a well-rounded education, and since that means I not only research and purchase said books and curriculum, but I read, implement, and teach from them while incorporating my daughter’s learning style. It isn’t easy. But it’s worth it.
I’ve painted in my tiny sketchbook journal portrait after portrait, sometimes wondering why I’m doing this. And yet, I know I need to because of the joy drawing and painting brings me.
My husband is playing the ukulele these days. Strumming out tunes and learning the chords. Why? Not because he has aspirations of joining a band and making it big. No. He “just” enjoys it. Playing that little instrument brings him joy. So he plays and I paint and our daughter draws like there’s no tomorrow. Joy. It’s hard to find sometimes. But when you find it, follow along. It’s worth it.
Do you have something you do creatively for nothing other than joy?
Our library finally opened in fitful form–not enough for us to actually go in and browse like old times, but enough for us to check out piles of books again–and we go every week and stand in line, masks on, six feet apart. Somehow this is like Christmas. We get our stack of books and go back to the car, all smiles.
I’m just as excited as my daughter as we have discovered so many wonderful books so far this year. I’ll share some in the coming weeks with you. I was thinking this morning how we homeschool, but our home itself is a school. We are readers. Thinkers. Creatives. It is wonderful to do this life together.
This past year hasn’t been perfect. We’ve all been through a million ups and downs, haven’t we? I hope as I come back to write here and there that I could encourage you in your own creative life. To take the time to muse and make. To take out those art supplies and dream again. To go on a walk and breathe deeply.
It’s good to be back.