There are stretches in life when my creative rhythm slips away from me. Sometimes it’s a busy season, or a shift in family life, or simply the weight of everything happening in the world. I’ve learned not to judge those pauses. They’re part of the cycle. But eventually, something shifts—quietly—and I find myself returning to my paints again.
There’s a particular feeling that comes with starting over. It’s tender, a bit uncertain, but also hopeful. I’ve gone through this cycle enough times to trust it. If you’ve stepped away from your creative practice for a while, you might recognize the tug to come back. It never really leaves; it just waits for you.
Here’s what brings me back, time and time again:
The curiosity that never goes away. I may pause, but the questions keep forming: What if I tried this? What would happen if I layered that? Eventually, curiosity wins.
A sense of grounding. Making anchors me. Even ten minutes with color helps me settle into myself.
A reminder of joy. Creativity has a way of lifting the corners of my day. It doesn’t fix everything, but it shifts something inside.
The need for expression. Life keeps changing, and art helps me process those changes—even the ones I don’t yet have words for.
The comfort of familiar tools. Returning to my brushes and paints feels like reconnecting with old friends. There's a quiet welcome in that.
If you’ve been thinking about returning to your practice, consider this your gentle nudge. You don’t have to leap. You can tiptoe back in. Creativity doesn’t mind how you arrive—it just wants you to show up when you’re ready.