I'm an artist, cat mama, lover of florals, sitcoms, and dancing at home and on-stage in my fuzzy socks. My digital homes here and on YouTube is a place to give you permission to be an artist deeply, imperfectly, beautifully. You are safe here; get warm + cozy.
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May 29, 2025
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There comes a moment in every artist’s life where they feel like the spark dims.
The paint dries mid-brushstroke, the melody won’t hum, the words feel far away.
And it can be terrifying.
Because what are we without our artistry?
What are our goals if not including our creative dreams?
Your lull is a return to your grounding, a deeper listening, and a chance to remember who you are beneath the output.
Here’s how to stay grounded.
Think of your creative energy like a picnic basket packed for a long, sun-drenched afternoon. 🌞
Sometimes the thing you’re craving is buried beneath the napkins, the thermos, the folded-up cloth.
It don’t mean you FORGOT to pack the yummy sandwiches. It’s just not what you’re reaching for in this moment.
Right now, you might be digesting a different part of the feast — healing, observing, metabolizing new textures of life. The appetizers, or the little side dishes.
Creativity isn’t always a bright burst of inspiration.
Often, it’s quietly waiting, deep within, reshaping itself while you’re busy being, well, a human!
Music is probably one of the most beautiful examples that silence is just as much a structure, intention, tension and release as the noise.
Without silence, the sound is a drone with no depth or character.
Equally, as an artist, your life is a rhythm, and rhythms require pauses — between projects, the long walks where nothing “productive” happens, the space where your soul exhales.
Marie Kondo calls it “sparking joy.”
I call it “feeling the flutter.”
You can call it anything you want!
It’s that feeling when you NEED to put your hand over your heart because something moves you. THAT’S why we create art, and that’s the feeling I believe is the best to follow.
Follow what moves you, not the rules.
What does this mean, tangibly?
It can be as simple as an artist hearing a specific drum in a song and thinking, “I love that.” That’s all. That moment of resonance is the flutter. It doesn’t need to become a project, a post, or a performance. Just noticing it — letting it live in your body without trying to capture or commodify it — is the practice.
That noticing is enough.
Artists get paid for embodying, discerning, and curating.
“I should be further along.”
“I should be more consistent.”
“I should already have a full portfolio.”
No, friend!
Shoulds are made up by hustle bros who want you to buy their course. They’re residue from systems built for people who want consistency, not artistry.
But your creative path is nonlinear, rebellious, and utterly unique. Throw out the syllabus.
You’re here to unlearn and remember. And that takes time.
This is precisely why we can’t focus on shoulds.
You are not a content calendar.
You are not a metric.
You are a literal cosmic event — stardust wrapped in skin, alive with feeling.
And your creativity is a frequency and vibration.
It’s something ethereal that tunes in and out, like a signal from the stars.
If you’ve been feeling off, consider: are you asking your soul to behave like software? Are you truly letting yourself be fully, wildly human?
Are you letting society, jobs, school tell you what you should do because it’s best for you, or because it’s best for them, their system, and their future?
Sometimes, the most creative thing you can do is something that has nothing to do with your craft.
Make a fancy dinner for your cat.
Organize your day.
Frolic in your backyard and pick wildflowers to place in a chipped ceramic cup.
You don’t have to monetize or publish everything you touch.
Let your life be the studio right now, and simply having experiences IS the creation.
Remember that above everything else, your job as an artist is to FEEL, not to produce.
You are a channel to make space for others to feel. Feeling requires space. And space is things like pause, thinking, imagining, journaling, lying on the floor.
This is all still movement. These are all still parts and pieces of the creation.
You are always becoming — slowly, sacredly, surely.
If you want to know how to stay grounded and are craving more softness, space to re-root yourself and as a gentle re-entry into your own artistic frequency, read this blog post next for another permission slip for gentle rebellion.
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Creative lifestyle
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I'm an artist, cat mama, lover of florals, sitcoms, and dancing at home and on-stage in my fuzzy socks. My digital homes here and on YouTube is a place to give you permission to be an artist deeply, imperfectly, beautifully. You are safe here; get warm + cozy.
BACK TO THE BLOG
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