Breathe in… Breathe out… Breathe in…
This is how the work of most, if not all creatives begin. We breathe in our experiences, the rhythm of our lives and we breathe out songs, poems, paintings, sculptures, collaborations and the like. We find ourselves in this endless pattern of taking in what happens in and around us and unpacking, analyzing and reassembling it to make sense of our lives, the human existence and in some ways carve out a way that we are uniquely distinct from everyone else. No matter our work, we long to be heard, to be seen.
Motherhood has taught me how to accept this journey, this precious life we have been given and the meaning we give to another’s life, validating their reason for being. Having recently given birth to our third child, I began to wonder and question the rhythm of my life. Up until that point, I could not see beyond the seemingly mundane repetitions of: make food, clean up, do laundry, pay bills, run errands, help with using the potty…it seemed like it doesn’t make sense. I had been moving at such a rapid pace on this hamster wheel that I felt like I was barely breathing, trying to hold everything in and hold it all together at the same time.
Then comes the wonderful interruption of birth. The days leading up to our third child’s arrival were fraught with activity, preparation, plans and then one day after all of that, she was born. I found myself in the throes of emotional highs and lows, evaluating my life up until this point and how to once again develop a new balance between my life and creative work. The slowing down, the limited mobility and the constant demands of a newborn ushered me into a deeper introspection, asking the question: “What do I really want?” “What is this season of life teaching me about life and about my creative work?
I am happy to report that I still have not fully answered that question. If I have learned anything from life thus far, it is that the destination is not as important as the journey. There are seasons where we are moving with predictable patterns, regular ebbs and flows and then something (or in my case someone) comes into your life and slows you down, asking you to take a deep breath and stop. I am learning to pay better attention to these moments. The seemingly mundane juxtaposed by the once-in-a-lifetime moments all lend a hand and offer more clarity and meaning to this life I am living.
And so, as I listen to the music of my life, and write the songs that are shaped by its experiences, the creative cycle continues, releasing from me work that speak to and bear witness to my life and the lives of others and in this way…I breathe out…
