What Calls You to Create?
Remembering joy and why you’re being called
I’ve been thinking about what calls us to write or create or paint or dance, or do anything that calls our soul, really.
I think sometimes there’s a certain amount of ‘should’ that can get attached to creativity. I know there was for me for a long time. I should be writing, I should be creating, I should be making something with my work.
And while I can’t argue that creating something that comes from deep inside that then gets out into the world doesn’t make the world a better place—it does—we lose something important if we focus only on the output.
We lose joy in the process.
We can inadvertently shift something that’s innately delightful and turn it into something that we unconsciously hold over ourselves. That we wield like cudgel, ready to force ourselves into being more disciplined or to fill ourselves with an insidious sense of shame that we’re not doing enough.
When instead, what’s called for is an invitation - one that asks you to step toward something that feels fun - like delight, like play.
In this vein, I’m sharing below a post I wrote years ago when I asked myself the question: why do I write?
I invite you to ask yourself the same question and write down what comes to you. Why do you like to write? To paint? Or make collages or take photographs?
What does it mean to you?
Then, you can keep it these words for those moments, days, or weeks that you forget why you love to create. You can hold it up, telling yourself, yes, this here. Yes!
If you do this and would be willing to share your words with me, I’d be honored to read and witness your story.
Why I Write
I've found many reasons to write in my life. I've written while traveling alone, staying at hostels across Italy and marveling at the vibrant kindness of strangers. I've lived in Morocco and Argentina, and I've written through culture shock and through not speaking the language, desperate I'd never understand. I've also written through the loneliness of moving to new places, following family for new opportunities, and leaving friends and comfortable spaces behind.
I've written through the exhaustion and worry of becoming a new mother, when I placed so much weight on my shoulders I wonder how I stood up every day. I've also written to try to catch my girls' fleeting childhoods, hoping to hold as many whispery memories as I could before they slipped away - the scent of their soft hair, their little mittens reaching for snowflakes.
There were many times I wrote through gritted teeth. I'd decided I wanted to be a Writer, and I had to create something. There were also many times when I didn't write. Although after awhile, I'd always somehow find myself writing about not writing.
Lately though, I've sensed a shift. I delight in putting a scene together, watching the images appear at the very moment I need them. Time disappears as I race to catch the words of a sentence. I like playing with words, too, rummaging around to find the perfect one. It could be "sapphire" or "cerulean." Or maybe it's simply blue. I love to tinker with the order, too, making the phrase sound just right, and I get a delicious thrill when a sentence clicks into place. Sometimes when I write, I am filled with awe, momentarily taken aback at the beauty of an image. Other times, I feel a sense of wonder. Like a child, clapping her hands. Look at how pretty that sentence is!
My sister and I used to spend long afternoons in our room, spinning stories onto loose-leaf paper and hurrying to read them aloud. Now, it seems I've found my way back there again, creating characters and dialogue, playing with sentences and words. I'm enchanted by writing, and when I pull out my notebook and begin to write, I move into joy. I write because it makes my soul sing.