the question every creative should ask

it's breathing fresh life into my creative world

Sometimes I get in my head // about my creative pursuits // The what-ifs abound

What if I start and don't finish // What if I start and the idea turns out dumb // What if I put it out there and it's rejected // What if I put it out there and it's accepted // What if it's misinterpreted // What if I'm judged for how I use // this precious time // What if the kids feel // neglected as I fill // my own creative cup? // (or, put another way, What about this mom guilt?) // What if // What if // What if

The ideas // the inspiration // the just for fun considerations // lie // there // unaddressed // inert // dead in the water

That is to say // I sucked the air from my own creativity // I // held my breath

And held and held and held.

I start to lose my life // I mean my liveliness // I mean the story

What I'm trying to say is // suddenly

The snow is just...snow // Flowers are just flowers // And look at that // cloud // doesn't it look like a... // cloud

The kids' growth chart generates no reflections on time // There's no reading between the lines // of the crinkles beside my dad's eyes when he smiles // And can you believe I wrote no poem // about last fall's stove top potpourri? // The message was right there // in the boiling water // in the steaming, broken down fruit // in the heady, spiced fragrance that brought to the kitchen a delighted, curious chorus of, "What's that smell?”

But I miss it.

My senses are numbed // dulled // desensitized // deadened

So I miss it // until

My what-ifs begin // to shift

What if I just... // try // What if I'm just okay // with failing // I mean not finishing // (okay, failing too) // What if I let the kids be // co-conspirators in my creative journey // What if in pouring out // I fill us // all to overflowing // What if I don't // worry // about blessing // the world // or even my soul // but blessing my God // who gave me this breath // of creative life

(What was like for The Self-Existent One // alive in himself // inherently creative // to breathe // dust into man // into dead bones // into stony hearts // Alive and breathing // Life // giving // life)

But breath is not given // to hold // So I release it // A steady stream of air // reoxygenating the wonder in my world

I am like him // (in a manner of speaking) // with my un-held breath // tingling senses // reawakening sensitivity to story // A life // choosing a life // of creativity

Unlike him // I have an end // I do not self-exist // So I get out of my head // (breathe in—breathe out) // and into my present // (breathe in—breathe out)

I no longer ask // what if

but instead—

How alive am I willing to be?¹

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This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Alive."

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¹ “How alive am I willing to be?” is an excerpt of this longer quote by Anne Lamott from her book, Bird by Bird: “Because this business of becoming conscious, of being a writer, is ultimately about asking yourself, How alive am I willing to be?”