Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to give yourself time.
I’ve found during this season that I most often feel like I am always behind, and rarely leave time to just be.
Being, I think, is underrated. Doing, on the other hand, seems to be of highest value right now, especially..
As I’ve embarked with a small group working through the Artist’s Way,* I find the practices required simple in explanation, but hard to do in practice.
Why do I find it so difficult to write first thing in the morning? That’s just three pages, handwritten, in the first 45 minutes of my day. And yet, to do so, I have to break through some old habits, routines. Honestly, though, my morning routine is always evolving. Some of that has been through the natural course of time. The pace of life was different when I was a student, both as a child, and later, as an adult. The changes in vocation, which have been many in my lifetime, also change my morning habits. Then I think about how things changed in each of these situations -- having a roommate, being at college, getting married, having a baby, then another baby.
I am trying to be patient with myself as I re-learn another routine. Writing morning pages is designed to empty out your head, after all, and none of it needs to make sense, or ever read again, by me, or anyone else. I can see how this will and already is helpful.
The other practice is a weekly “artist’s date.” That can be anything, from going for a walk in a park, attending a play or a concert, going to a museum, buying craft supplies from the dollar store and making glitter whatevers, or going to an interesting bookstore and browsing. Why is it so hard for me to give myself permission to take just 90 minutes each week to do something that I really want to do?
All of this I hope will work to unblock my creativity. For me, I hope that will feed my writing, both prose and poetry.
To that end, I’ve been writing more lately, of both types. Here are a couple of poems from this month:
A Painted Icon At daybreak I wake, Seeking something, I don’t know what. I look out my window, At the beauty so sure and evident, In the backyard of my life. I am dense, sometimes, A slow learner, They used to say. So I need a little more time, After school, To catch up. God who loves me, This earth that I love, Talk to each other in The deepest recesses of my soul. Where will I be tomorrow? I don’t know, But as I wipe the dust off my feet, And the dust from my eyes, I know this road Will be paved with grace. Surely I can learn That simple lesson. Amy Vaughan March 13 2025 Inspired by Mary Oliver’s poem Thirst I Will Not Let You Go* Not until you bless me, I will hold on. What kind of blessing Dare I hope to have? The blessing of your company, Here, on this path. The blessing of seeing the Light return to Your cloudy eyes. The blessing of watching Your transformation, As you believe, Really believe, For the first time in a while, Or maybe ever, That you are beloved, Just as you are, Without a catch, Without condition, Without the need to Repent, As if who you are Is something you could Shed like a snake In the basement. Blessing comes to those Who wait. I will wait, for as long as it takes. I will not let you go. Amy Vaughan March 17 2025 *With thanks to Bishop Carter for lodging this phrase in my heart. ** Genesis 32: 26b
How do you make time for yourself? Time for creativity? Time to connect with the Divine? I’d love to hear from you!