As women, I think we are all driven to be creative in some way. The way in which our creativity takes shape is what sets us apart from "everybody else." The way doesn't matter. What matters is the expression that comes from the heart.
I was thinking about this the other night as I stirred (and stirred, and stirred) butterscotch pudding. I'd never made butterscotch pudding and even now I'm not sure what possessed me to search the myriad of recipes that came up when I searched "butterscotch pudding recipe" and then spend the 40 minutes it took to make said butterscotch pudding.
That no one in my family wanted. But I'm not bitter.
Anyway, this is not about butterscotch pudding, much as some of you may love butterscotch pudding. I mean my family doesn't but I couldn't know that until I'd made it. And wasted a good 40 minutes of my life. Again, not bitter.
Ahem. Moving on.
This is about the pride I felt when I finished the pudding (I had no idea at this point that ungrateful children were going to turn their nose up at it) and put it all in a dish and stood back and thought, "That is butterscotch pudding. I took random ingredients off a shelf and I stirred (and stirred, and stirred) them together, and voila! I made butterscotch pudding. There was nothing and now there is something."
And then my thoughts went from there, as thoughts are prone to do. (At least mine are. Tell me I'm not alone in this.) I started thinking of all the "there was nothing, now there is something" activities we women enjoy.
Crafting... there was just some strips of cloth and a wire hanger and now there's a wreath.
Writing... there was a blank page and a blinking cursor. Now there is a book. Or a blog post. Or a journal. Or a poem.
Motherhood... there was just a womb and a wish and now there is a whole, live person.
Painting... there was just a vast white canvas and now there is an image captured.
Photography... there was just a camera and some kids and now there are memories preserved forever.
Decorating... there was just a plain, cold room and now there is a warm, welcoming space that perfectly reflects the personality and priorities of the people who live there.
Knitting... there was just some yarn and needles and now there is a blanket, or a sweater, or a coffee cup cozy. (That was for my mom.)
Music... there was just an instrument and some sheet music and now there are songs that strangers know by heart.
Fashion... there was just some fabric used to cover up people so they don't walk around naked, now there's a vast, endless stream of colors and styles to reflect preference and personalities.
... You get the idea. The point isn't how you express your creativity. The point is that I know there's something that gets your blood pumping harder. It's the place your mind goes when there's nothing else demanding your brain waves. It's wired deep down inside you and-- even if you ignore it-- it won't go away.
May I just challenge you not to ignore it? To take one little step towards it today? To not be afraid of it or ashamed of it or apologize for it? To live the passionate, creative life you know you're meant for. Yes, still be a mom and a wife and a worker bee, but carve out time for creativity somehow, somewhere in the rush of your days. You'll be a happier, more satisfied woman when you do. Because we were wired to create. And to live a life that denies that is only half living. Test me and see if I'm right.