TRANSKRİPT 🔗
[Intro music]
Hey everybody, and welcome to the Little Oracles podcast, an oracle for the everyday creative. I’m Allison Arth.
Hello again; glad you’re here for the final installment of this three-part microseries about coming back to creative life after a pretty long hiatus. And if you haven’t heard Episodes One and Two of this little set, I’ll link them in the show notes; we talk about retracing our steps as creatives, and leaning into old standbys (and I recommend a handful of my favorite creepy reads, ones I love to pick up again and again) in Episode One, and we also talk about the benefits of prompts and parameters when you wanna jumpstart your creativity, and also about the vital nature of creative elasticity — go check them out if you want the full picture on today’s little chat.
So today I wanna talk about something so seemingly miniscule and also so ephemeral — like, literally; this is something I caught in a friend’s Instagram story — but it’s something that really shook me, and it helped me redefine my approach to my own creative work.
So about a month ago, maybe, I checked in on my childhood friend and spectacular home and interiors creator Lindsay Stewart’s Instagram stories — and if you’re not familiar with Lindsay, you can follow her on Instagram at lindsaystewartdotcom, and you can listen to our Season One Creative Chat, which I’ll link in the show notes, too. I call her the living disco ball; she’s just an absolute joy, and she’s so thoughtful about home design and the way our environment shapes our moods and represents who we are. But here Lindsay was, in her Stories, just being her sweet self, talkin’ about her day, and she said something so groundbreaking for me, something that I’ve come back to time and again as I’ve been, kind of, resurrecting myself as a creator: she said, “I owe myself a yoga session.”
And whether yoga’s your thing or not, it doesn’t matter; it’s those first three words that are so powerful: “I owe myself.” It’s this tiny alteration to what so many of us so commonly express: “I have to” or “I need to” or “I should.” “I owe myself” reconsiders and recenters you, me, the speaker, the individual; it’s this minor change in speech — the addition of that little reflexive pronoun, “myself” — that reflects a major shift in priority. It’s a phrase that hinges on obligation, that’s true, but it’s obligation to one’s self. It’s a promise you’re keeping with yourself and to yourself. And when it comes down to it, it reframes commitment as self-care.
So for me, I thought, “I owe myself creativity.” I owe myself the process and the practice of making. I owe myself, for example, a podcast revival, and whatever shape that ultimately takes, I’ve done it for myself.
And just imagine; just imagine what you might do — and I’m not talking about this in a “productivity” way; I’m not talking about accomplishments as ticks on a scoreboard — but just imagine what you might do that brings you pride, or gratification, or fulfillment, or just joy if you were to recast your daily activities in Lindsay’s way: “I owe myself, fill-in-the-blank.”
And, I mean, I’m not, like, an affirmations guy, but I honestly think you should try this; just say it, out loud, just once, and I think you’ll feel how meaningful this tiny, truly innocuous phrase really is: “I owe myself.” I owe myself. I owe myself what sparks my creative mind, and what stokes my creative fire. I owe myself what lights me up. And you do, too.
And that’s so lovely, right? [laughs] That’s such a beautiful sentiment. [chuckles] But even if we do believe that we owe ourselves creative practice — or really any other task or activity or experience that brings us solace or satisfaction or pleasure — how do we get there when we’re gutting it out in the trenches of grief, like I was, or we’re down the doldrums, or we’re just tired or busy or frustrated, or whatever it is that’s keeping us from just getting started? Basically, how do we kick interia’s ass and get back to making, like in a functional, tangible way?
I’ve got a few recommendations for you, starting with a supply haul. And what I mean by that is, if you’re feeling stuck, take out all your creative supplies — whether those are paints or pens or spices or dice or whatever — and just sit with them. Sometimes, just being immersed in the tools of your creative trade is enough to trigger an idea. And it doesn’t have to be a big one; it can be a little one. But just sit with your stuff and see how that makes you feel.
And similarly, making a date with another creator friend can kindle your creativity: you could grab a coffee or tea and ask them about their latest projects; you could go for a walk and talk about how they get through a creative drought; you could even get together for a really low-key craft night. The point is, creativity is catching, and chances are, once you hear how engaged your friend is in their practice, you’ll get fired up about yours, too.
And, you can expand this experience at a creator-focused event like Creative Mornings. If you’re not familiar, Creative Mornings is a breakfast lecture series for creative communities in 244 cities worldwide — can you believe it? — so there’s a good chance you can attend an event in person and connect with makers near you, but if not, you can check out the Creative Mornings podcast as well, and I’ll link it in the show notes if you want to learn more. Basically, surrounding yourself with other creatives, with other people who might be struggling with having ideas, or might be just brimming with them, is a way forward, and a way to connect with your community and get inspired again.
And if you’re looking for a concrete prompt, I’ve got a few for you; I’m not gonna leave you hanging. Maybe iterate on one in your favorite medium, or try out a less-familiar mode of expression to flex your creative muscles a little more:
Think about your favorite childhood toy; now, create a portrait of that toy — it can be representational, it can be abstract, it can be experimental, whatever you’re feeling in the moment. And remember that a portrait doesn’t just have to be visual art. You can make a portrait out of anything: a song, an essay, a piece of woodworking; anything you want.
Second, depict a season of the year or a time of day: maybe it’s a painting of an autumn walk, a poem about the first snow, a lullaby about twilight; just imagine a specific atmosphere and create in response to that.
And third, for a more conceptual challenge, borrow a word or words from the Little Oracles digital installation; you can pick one of the lexical fragments and use it as a springboard for your next piece, and you can find all of them at little oracles dot com slash exhibit.
In addition to all of these, I’ll link a couple past episodes that are all about strategies for getting over the hump when it comes to your creative work — specifically Season Two, Episodes 15 and 18. And, of course, I don’t want to ignore therapy: if you’re struggling, if you can’t find that creative joy no matter what you try, you can always find a professional therapist who can give you the tools to heal your heart and reignite your creative flame.
And that’s it for today; thank you so much for being here. If you’re in the mood for even more big book energy and creativity content, you can find it at little oracles dot com; you can listen to every episode of the podcast and browse that original Little Oracles digital installation. And until next time, as always, take care, keep creating, and stay divine.
[Outro music]
[Secret outtake]
Hi [cat meows] everybody [laughs] … [cat meows again] Really? [cat meows] Uh-huh. [cat meows twice more, bangs around on cardboard scratcher] Being a menace.