I believe we are all creative. I want to inspire you to make time for creativity. There is no better time to start than now and it is never too late. Let’s take the journey together!
I have written a hundred essays for my blog since December 2020. These essays include thoughts about creativity, inspiration, music, songwriting, life, nature, genealogy, language, architecture, and social commentary. They represent a part of my creativity. Expressing ideas through whatever means I have available is important to me. Being creative keeps me sane.
I have kept a journal sporadically through the years. Consistency is not my strong point in this area—and, if I am honest, probably in most endeavors of my life. Life has interruptions. My mood changes. Sometimes I don’t have much to write about—it gets boring rehashing the same old things day after day. My attempts to slow down and keep a journal flow from the desire to live orderly and peaceful.
My husband does all the cooking and grocery shopping. The first thing people always ask me is, “Does he also clean up the kitchen?” My answer is yes. Maybe I am a slow eater, but he always finishes before me. He will then jump up and start washing and cleaning.
Life was hard for my ancestors—especially back in the seventeenth century. One family line came to New Netherland to escape a destroyed homeland. I am not sure life here was any easier for them or their children.
Last weekend my husband and I returned to Aldridge Gardens—a thirty-acre woodland garden featuring a lake, wide trails, whimsical sculptures, native plants, azaleas, and hydrangeas. I needed a diversion, some sunshine, a wee bit of exercise, and a reminder of the beauty all around in nature. A walk in the gardens seemed like the perfect morning.
I sat down and started cutting straight lines—not perfectly linear, but as straight as my hands could cut. Pulling pages out of magazines and using the colors or designs that spoke to me, the collage took shape line after line, color after color.
My husband and I recently celebrated our forty-second wedding anniversary. Milestones tend to make me contemplate time gone by—as well as look toward the future.
What do you write about, when you can’t think of anything or you don’t feel inspired? That is a great question. I feel stuck this week. I don’t want to write something just to write—and it be uninteresting or worse yet, not even worth reading.
I often think about writing a memoir or compiling a book of essays. For the most part, I have lived a rather mundane life. I can’t say that I have accomplished anything noteworthy and I am not famous. However, my life has been—and is—a journey of finding that being creative is important.
When I was about fourteen years old, the piano preludes of Claude Debussy (1862-1918) changed my life. Before then, the piano music my teacher gave me was mostly from the Classical Period with some from the Romantic Period. Czerny and Hanon were the backbone of the technique she taught.
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