I’m sitting in a downtown coffee shop distracted by my constant overthinking. I’m drinking an overpriced chai tea that I’m not particularly impressed with. Overpriced is an understatement. $4.50? It’s a beautiful Sunday morning and I’ve skipped church because I’m having a bad hair day. Damn, that sounds super vain. Let’s say I skipped because I care little for organized religion. Regardless, I wanted a day to myself.
On some days, I wish I wasn’t myself, but some idealized version of me. I think I was more creative when I was younger, but now everything seems stagnant, and today I need inspiration. I plan to find my way back to my creative self, or my inner child. What happened to her? Do we stop being creative when we become adults? Is creativity only for the young? If so, is it because they have so much life in front of them and they can waste time on innovative ventures? Did I stop being creative when I married and turned my attention to adult responsibilities? Or did it happen once the ink dried on my divorce papers? Yikes, this is too much to ponder at the moment! I feel stuck.
Yet I sit here willing my creativity to appear. I’m waiting to see the image of my former self. I’m sure today’s journey will bring forth emotions that I don’t have the strength to explore. I can already feel the resistance as my mind travels to a lost lover, and I realize that I am prone to heartbreaks and frequent bouts of melancholy. Those feelings have become my lifeline, the thing that keeps me connected to my creativity or lack thereof. It’s also the thing that puts a wedge between me and my higher good—love, openness, trust, sexuality, and purpose. Heartbreaks wield a lot of power.
I’m out in these streets embarking upon this solo task while I have some courage. While I have a shred of hope that I can do something besides wallow in my sadness. I sit, contemplating a better way to live yet never moving toward actualizing those lofty goals. Instead, I sit, ponder, lament, cry, beg, scream, and talk to God about all the things he has given me dominion and power over.
I sit in this coffee shop, staring at all the artsy types coming in—some talkative and others introspective. I, a casual observer, sit, willing myself to finish this third page of thought. I’m writing today’s intention—IN SEARCH OF MY LONG LOST CREATIVITY—in big bold letters. But how will I know when I’ve found it? Will it come forth in the form of a new idea, a gentle nudging, or an epiphany? Will I feel like a genius as I come up with an imaginative plan to revamp my life and tap into my power?
I don’t know for sure, but I will listen. Yes, that’s it! I will pay attention and listen to the sounds of the city. I will become one with the street, feel its heartbeat. I will sashay around town and act “as if” I belong, “as if” I matter to the world, the Universe, to God. I will act “as if” I matter to me. See, I will pretend that I have this enormous idea. I will pretend that I have this gigantic secret that will end world hunger, boost the female metabolism, and solve the homeless crisis. I will wear the look of Einstein’s genius on my face.
Will I engage with other people? Will I attempt to connect, or is that only relegated to “good hair” days, when I feel beautiful and like my former self? I guess I will just have to play that one by ear, because today I am exiting my dark cave of ordinary. Today I am engaging with my higher self as I seek to uncover the inner workings of my mind and tap into my creative juices. Today I will observe, listen, and act accordingly or not at all. Today I will just be. And just like that, I’m creative again!