On creative inhales and exhales.
Hi Friends,
I decided to read and record an audio version of this month's musing so you can listen away from a screen and more easily digest the words. It's about 15 mins in full with the guided practice. You can LISTEN HERE or read on!
I'm writing this by the river, curled up in the sun, dancing between moments of immersion in the fresh, translucent stream and the pull to pen words on the page. This dipping in and drawing out mirrors the breath of creative expression, the ebb and flow of inspiration and materialisation. I've been in a suspended creative inhale longer than expected, lingering in hibernation, and I find myself yearning for the sweet return of fresh ideas, blooming like violas in the spring garden of my days.
There are few things more satisfying and remarkable than taking an idea, capturing it, exploring it, shaping it into something beautiful, and then sharing it with the world. That feeling, which comprises trust, courage, and a little magic, is something I live and long for. It’s when I feel most accomplished. But not all ideas move through the season of growth into birth.
Many ideas lose steam, die prematurely, or lose their electricity. In the earlier days of turning towards my creativity, this would feel like disappointment or failure. But what I’ve gleaned over time is that it’s my duty to feel all the ideas through, to give them their time in the sun, to stretch them out and see what they might become. I’ve come to learn that the ideas that die act as compost for my inner soil, adding flavours, textures, and nutrients to the ideas that eventually come into full bloom.
I am more deciduous than evergreen when it comes to creating and sharing. I come out with bright, vibrant ideas, all guns blazing - a technicolour stretch of interwoven creative pieces is often birthed at the same time. Then I need to retreat. Reflection time is golden. I look at what feels alive and what needs to decay, restoring my wells of inspiration and allowing space and silence to hear, feel, and sense where the current is leading me.
It’s also taken time to trust my own process and the timing of my creative inhales and exhales, to rebel against a world that insists we must never stop and continually produce. We bathe in a culture of unsustainable productivity. Not long after we’ve pressed "send" do we hear the internal nagging of "what’s next?" But as I’ve invited those parts inside me to soften and made room to decompress before growing again, I’ve learned to conserve my energy and use it when the work feels most impactful and alive.
This particular hiatus has come with some big life curveballs. My dreams of spending a few months immersed in rituals and writing were redirected when life had other plans. The energy of winter, death, and decay has inflicted a crumbling of my most secure foundations, a loss of things I held so dear, and a meeting with some of the darkest nights of my soul. The emotional toll has been immense and tender, so my focus has shifted to resourcing my inner stability to make sense of a chaotic time.
It’s in these moments, processing life’s contractions and digesting them into expansions, that we architect our inner world to hold and alchemise our greatest work. These unexpected, initiatory experiences weave their way through our bodies, creating a basin for the flood of wisdom to land on and be influenced by. Partnered with time and space, we can slowly embody and hold the things that come our way, allowing us to keep, churn, and materialise the wisdom of the universe that lights our creative fire.
As creatives, our practice, process, and businesses are so deeply intertwined with our nervous system. When we are rooted, open, curious, and present, we act as a flute for the creative force of nature to play through us. When we feel frozen, anxious, fearful, wobbly, or insecure, our capacity to show up to our work and the world is compromised. This sensitivity is both a blessing and a curse. Emotional tending, nourishment of our bodies, and soothing of our nervous system are required sacred tools for the creative heart.
Today I wanted to share a ritual, consisting of some thoughts, prompts and a guided embodied practice to help you refine your energetic integrity and capture your creative wind again.
Creative Ritual: Gently releasing from a creative inhale.
Part 1. Set your space and foundations.
How can you ritualise your writing practice?
You can adapt this idea with any medium of expression. The idea is to create an intentional space where the creation will want to enter. It might be a sacred corner in a room, a quiet place in nature or a whole creative studio. Clean and tidy the space. Invite in your muses with a spoken welcome and adorn your environment with spaciousness, or inspiration, making it feel warm, safe and inviting.
What are your fertile companions?
Light a candle. Buy a new notebook and a quality pen. Invest in fresh pigments. Have chocolate on hand.
For me, I keep a copy of Rick Rubin’s The Creative Act and my favourite tarot deck nearby. Before I dive into time spent chewing over creative ideas, I flip to a new page or pull a card to help tap into some wisdom, sparking the unfolding.
How are you nourishing your creative landscape?
Everything that moves in through your senses is either clarifying or muddying your creative channel.
What are you eating, watching, talking about, listening to? And is it supporting creation or diminishing it?
How are you emptying and clearing out your vessel so it can be a worthy channel for the wisdom to move through? Where can you create more space for rest, meditation, quiet, stillness and self compassion?
How are you showing up? Dealing with distractions
The eerie void in a creative pause—when you watch tumbleweed roll through your mind and onto the page—can feel uncomfortable, leading to avoidance and distraction.
A helpful prompt to return to often: Am I moving toward or away from my practice?
What action can I take to bring myself closer?
Part 2. Guided embodiment practice: Returning to your inner living landscape.
Soften into your creative space. Roll out your body from your neck, shoulders, arms, wrists, hips, knees and ankles, before finding a restful seated position in your creative space and listen to THIS GUIDED SOMATIC PRACTICE.
Part 3. Tuning in and showing up.
Feel into these prompts when you finish the guided somatic practice.
Where do I feel the stirring of creative energy in or around my body? What does it feel like?
When was the last time I felt the wave of inspiration pick me up and lead me to something great? What were the conditions? How did I feel? How were you supported?
What could it be like to simply start—somewhere, anywhere—and see what might arise?
Free write on a page for 5 mins and see where it leads.
I hope you find something here that’s supportive and feel free to reach out and share where youre feeling bound up and where the river is flowing at full speed!
All my love,
Rach x