There are seasons in life when creativity comes easily.
And then there are seasons when it quietly waits.
As artists, makers, parents, business owners, and simply as people, we spend so much of our lives creating for someone else.
We make dinner.
We solve problems.
We answer emails.
We meet deadlines.
We care for the people we love.
We build businesses.
Much of that work is meaningful, but it doesn't always leave room for the kind of creativity that first made us fall in love with creating.
Lately I've been thinking about what it means to give ourselves permission to make something simply because it wants to exist.
Not because it's the fastest thing to make.
Not because it's the easiest thing to sell.
Not because it fits neatly into a business plan.
Just because the idea has been quietly asking to be brought to life.
This month, I've been given one of those rare opportunities.
I'm creating six pairs of earrings for an exhibition opportunity that has challenged me to stop thinking like a business owner for a little while and start thinking purely as an artist.
It's both exciting and a little uncomfortable.
When your livelihood depends on making things people will buy, it can feel almost irresponsible to spend time creating without first asking, "Will this sell?"
But I'm being reminded of something.
The work that stretches us often changes us.
Even if no one else ever sees these earrings, they will have taught me something.
They'll remind me to trust my instincts.
To experiment.
To slow down.
To chase an idea simply because it fills me with wonder.
Ironically, I think that's exactly the kind of creativity that eventually makes all of my work better.
Because when the artist is nourished, the business benefits too.
Maybe your own creativity doesn't look like jewelry.
Maybe it's painting.
Gardening.
Gardening.
Writing.
Quilting.
Photography.
Cooking.
Music.
Or maybe it's a dream that's been patiently waiting for the right season.
As summer gives way to fall, I hope you'll give yourself permission to create something simply because it brings you joy.
Not everything we make has to be productive.
Sometimes it simply needs to remind us who we are.
Thank you for walking alongside me as I begin this creative journey. I can't wait to share it with you.
A question for you:
When was the last time you created something simply because you wanted to?
