The Art of Returning: How to Hold Space for Your Creativity to Bloom Again

Long before I knew how to name it, I knew I loved creating worlds with words. Stories, poems, and ideas are woven together in the quiet parts of my mind.

As the years went on, I watched with admiration as my beautiful younger sister lifted a brush and brought colors to life on canvas, how she blossomed as an artist, and eventually even opened her art studio. She captures the beauty of our natural world with brush strokes and paint, she makes a magical and tangible expression of the overflow of her heart.  She creates beauty you can see and touch. Yet I often wondered, silently, if my words could ever be a tangible expression that others would embrace as well.

Paintings stay on walls, but words drift through hearts and minds only if you can get someone to read or listen. However, the older I get, the more I understand:

Words plant gardens in the mind; they describe our world and create new ones in the mind, places the eyes can’t always see. They could be their own kind of lasting, beautiful work if only I would dare to put them together and share them with the world.

I’ve carried this love for words all my life. I even wrote two children's books, 20 years apart, and both are still sitting quietly on my computer, collecting digital dust, waiting for someday,. Not because I don’t love them. Not because they aren’t worthy. But because somewhere along the way, life got busy, and I got tired. I didn’t know how to take the next steps. And frankly, I didn’t take myself seriously enough.

Maybe you have something like that tucked away, too. a dream, a song, a story, a vision waiting for the right time, the right courage, the right belief.

You know what, that thing is still there….waiting for you.

Maybe it's a dream, a story, a song, an idea, just sitting quietly, waiting for you to come back.

But hey, life happens. Jobs, kids, mortgages. groceries, bills.

The needs of the people we love......life happens, the good and the bad.

And we give ourselves willingly to all of it, because it matters. Because it’s beautiful, important, sacred work.

But somewhere along the way, it’s easy to lose sight of the person you are beyond all the to-do lists piling up. That creative spark was long ago covered up with responsibilities, not out of failure, but out of responsibility, duty, and most of all, love.

Still... for some, it waits, and sometimes, usually when life gets a little quieter, you hear it again. That soft whisper: "There’s still more inside you.” The wild and graceful you that yearns for beauty, creativity, and connection.

But there never seems to be time for that. When the mountain of to-dos is done, it’s so easy to check out, sink into random TV shows, or scroll on the phone for hours. Checking out is needed sometimes and has its place, but can sneakily consume all of your time and creative mental space outside of the daily demands of life, leaving you spent and with no time to nurture your creative soul.  

I used to think the answer was to "make time” to write. Put it on the calendar. Sit down at 3 p.m. and write something brilliant. Be creative on command.

But the truth is, creativity doesn’t bloom under pressure, at least not for me.

It doesn’t respond to the tick of the clock. I tried hunkering down and being disciplined, and dedicating "writing time". It often ended in journal rants or frustration because creativity doesn’t respond well to a task master.

It responds to invitation, to space, to kindness, and to freedom.

It needs to feel free and like a beloved part of you being welcomed home, not barked at like a neglected chore. So while you are blocking the time, the nuance of holding space for your creativity is not putting rigid rules on the outcome. Just show up, open, and ready to explore what creative things are stirring in you.

Maybe for you, it’s not writing. Maybe it’s painting, or gardening, or singing, or learning to play the guitar that’s been gathering dust in the corner.

Whatever it is for you, know this…. It’s still there. It hasn’t given up on you, and even if you’re a Gen Xer like me, it’s not too late.

You don’t have to create something huge or profound today. You don’t have to prove anything to anybody. Just start holding a little space for yourself. Just a small corner of your day, a break, a moment, a small breath of your heart, where that part of you can come alive again.

I know you’re busy and maybe overwhelmed, but still….please…make room for it… It’s so important.

Show up for yourself, mark the time with something you do to mentally transition from the business of life into your creative time, light a candle, play some music that stirs your soul, or say a quiet blessing if it helps:

"I set down the tools and tasks of the day and walk barefoot into the garden of my spirit."

And then just see what happens.

No judgments, no deadlines, no performance required.

Just you, coming back to yourself.

If there’s one thing I’m slowly learning, it’s this:

It’s not too late. You’re not too late. I’m not too late.

The life we lived, all the busy, beautiful, exhausting years, didn’t erase the creative parts of us. They deepened them, and now, maybe more than ever, the world needs the kind of beauty, wisdom, and realness that only we, the ones who have lived a little, can offer.

Tonight, after dinner is eaten, dishes are put away, and the farm chores are done, when the house settles into evening quiet, I’ll light my candle, whisper a blessing, and I’ll step barefoot into the soft waiting space, pick up my pen and just maybe, create something beautiful.

Tiny actions move me closer toward the life I was always meant to live. It isn't somewhere on the other side of the Grand Canyon, it’s right here, right now, in these small, brave, beautiful returns.

And maybe, it’s waiting for you too, in the words, the colors, the songs, the gardens you still carry quietly inside your heart.

Waiting for you to say yes, waiting for you to begin.

From my heart,

Tamara

PS You can see my Sister's Beautiful Art here https://meganmillerfineart.com/