Rest and reflection can rejuvenate your creativity and redefine success in a world that equates busyness with achievement
One of the hardest things I’ve had to learn (and relearn repeatedly) is that living and working creatively – whether that be in writing or in building an authentic business – asks for something different.
It asks the opposite of what culture demands of us – which is to relentlessly pursue, ceaselessly push. Generations of acculturation have defined human beings as a means of production, like an assembly line running three shifts or a computer always turned on humming in the background.
Perhaps you’ve found yourself here with your writing or your creative business. Maybe you’ve been pushing, running, and working, all in the name of creating something worthy. I’ve seen it in myself and in my clients.
Rest is too often conflated with laziness; so, we look at productivity as a hallmark of success.
We tend to not stop, until we’re forced to.
Of course, you want to express yourself in your writing or your business. That’s part of why you’re here. And yet, if we don’t learn to rest, if we do not claim restoration and replenishment as priorities, our creativity suffers.
Our work is less than.
There’s a reason that one of the core practices of Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way is the Artist’s Date, which is all about creative restoration and replenishment.
We need a different paradigm
Rather than modeling our work in the world after industry or technology, what if we could find inspiration in nature?
Wide, shady oak trees shed their amber leaves in autumn and go dormant through the cold dark winter. They then emerge with their emerald canopies wider and higher each year as spring moves into summer, only to repeat the cycle of rest and restoration followed by new growth and flourishing.
And many bird species, like geese or swans, undertake long migrations to find suitable breeding grounds or warmer climates during winter. During these trips, the birds have periods of rest at various stopover points to allow for recuperation from the strenuous efforts of the journey.
In a world that often equates busyness with success, I’ve found that creativity thrives not in relentless pursuit, but in moments of rest and reflection.
The question I’m sitting with this week is: can we learn to truly embrace the ebb and flow of our creative journeys?
What might that look like for you?