We Are Creative Beings

 When we speak, we create.

When we think, feel, or cook dinner, we create.

Before the painting or the poem arrives, we are drawing out forces from within. And all day, we pull them into the world—as a clean space, a garden bed, a fixed bicycle. As collected art. Books on a shelf. Herbs on the wall. Stones lined along the windowsill.

An embrace. A nod. A smile.

But do we sense that creative existence within? Can we see it?

Does it have form? Can it be felt? Or touched?

What proof do we have of the creative life?

And do we even need that proof?

Create something beyond daily existence.

Sing. Play. Draw. Assemble. Plan.

Lose yourself there—and you begin to co-create.

Something else takes over. It guides your arm. Shakes your voice.

Time is lost. Distraction fades.

A mission that might’ve started as yours.

Or perhaps never was.

But a mission, nonetheless, that you must see through. To completion.

This is what it means to allow the creative impulse to move through us. When a great writer writes, they open up to forces beyond themselves. The gates swing freely, and the creative forces come to play. They are welcomed.  Loved. Now the writer has friends and playmates.

I am only just beginning to befriend the creative impulse, even though I sought it my entire life. To arrive here, I had to willingly shift—from a hyper-critical and competitive person to someone who feels responsible for how she treats the divine forces of creation.

Responsible because our minds are powerful. We can shut these forces down, or we can open ourselves up to them and welcome them in. I’ve done both. And I’ve found that being a welcoming host brings me one step closer to freedom.

Freedom is my aim.

It was the start of Memorial Day weekend, 2024, when I sat for my morning meditation. After months of trying to repair my relationship with creativity, I made an invitation.

I invited a creative entity into my being.

I don’t know what that entity was. It could’ve been my individual soul—a higher part of me that guides my intuitive mind. It could’ve been something else entirely. But I was yearning to create without criticism. To make anything, really.

So I made the invitation: That some creative entity might create through me—and I could simply enjoy their creation. It needed hands and feet and a mind. So here I was. Ready to help.

Before I knew it—me, with my historically brown thumbs and total incompetence in gardening—I was outside. Planning. Researching. Scheming. As if transported, I found myself at the store, befriending plant life, choosing who was coming home with me.

Another trip to the nursery, and I felt like I’d adopted gentle little orphans, checking on them in the middle of the night to make sure they were sound asleep. I found myself digging. Weekend after weekend, buying more rocks. Sweating in the sun. Enlisting my partner, who knew I was just taking orders myself.

Without any resistance, so unlike me when it came to gardening, I altered the terrain and created homes for new life. But I didn’t do it alone. Had I not invited that nameless creative entity in, nothing would have moved.

So my question to you is: Have you opened up to the creative impulse yet—or are you still waiting?

If you’re still waiting: What are you waiting for?

I’ve just uploaded a meditation based on this very experience to Insight Timer. It’s an offering for anyone seeking to reconnect with their creative essence—and all it longs to bring into the world.

If this resonates with you, you can listen to the free meditation, “Born to Create: A Meditation for Creative Flow,” now on Insight Timer.

While you’re there, I’d love for you to subscribe to my profile—it helps more people find these offering, and it’s the best way to stay connected as I release new meditations and teachings.

Thank you for being here—and for honoring the creative force within you.

Photo Credit: Pure Julia on Unsplash