In this moment on Heal Meditations.
When creativity feels lost,
My hands form nothing meaningful.
My eyes see nothing new.
My heart paralyzed by survival.
Creativity seems to have fled my existence.
I sit.
No words come.
No energy exists or moves from my spirit to the page.
Nothing left to process.
I breathe in.
And I exhale.
In silence.
I'm learning to be still when there's nothing left.
When all of me has been twisted dry by the laundering of life.
Sitting in a basket,
Waiting for the attention of a mother to run her loving hands over me so I can be repurposed.
Fresh.
Reimagined tomorrow,
Like those beautiful clothes of mine that endure the tumble cycle to be made new again for all the world to see.
Giving greater confidence.
A vibrant expression of who I am.
I must find it in me to believe I'm not washed out.
I'm not torn and stained to the point of being thrown away.
I only need some sewing.
A deep warm soak.
And time in the basket or the back of the closet.
Space.
Then everything great can come back.
They always do.
A fashion.
A hero.
The sunrise.
A soulmate.
They never really leave.
They just can't be seen for a while.
Creativity hasn't left me.
It's resting.
And when it returns,
I will be ready with vigor.
I will have never known a deeper resolve than I've ever experienced.
And I will co-create with the universe and everything will flourish.
But for now,
My existence,
My cocooning,
And my survival.
Creativity can't be forced.
It only flows.
Creativity is never lost.
It's building inside us where it can't be seen or even heard.
But it's growing.
This I trust with every fiber of my being.