Reader,
Last week, I felt a little off. Not exactly sad, not overwhelmed—just removed from myself.
I think this is natural. As we grow, we also outgrow. As we move through the world, we absorb—sometimes intentionally, sometimes without even realizing it.
And then one day, we wake up and feel slightly … misaligned.
The shift was sharp for me because, just the week before, I was fired up about my novel. I had so much clarity I could have done cartwheels (not that I actually know how to do a cartwheel, but you get the idea). But this happens with creativity, the dips and climbs of energy, motivation, and clarity are real, and we have to pay attention to them. We need to learn how to run with creativity when it feels hot, and give ourselves breathing space during the lukewarm periods.
In today’s world, we are constantly asked (or dare I say, forced) to witness the nonstop crumbling. The pain. The injustices. The deterioration. And we should witness it. We should not turn away. Sometimes these situations are across the street or down the road, but for many of us they are oh so close to home, and we feel them deeply.
But the way we receive news and communicate how we feel about it all has changed.
We don’t always get to choose when we take it in, how we engage with it, or for how long. It’s just there. All. The. Time.
And yet, I feel an urgent call for creativity.
Not just in a big-picture, “state of the world” kind of way, but in a deeply personal way, too.
Why can’t we start small? Why can’t we start with ourselves? Why can’t we bring back small moments that feed us?
What have you unknowingly let go of that you might want to bring back?
Maybe it’s something small, something that once sparked joy but faded without you even realizing it.
How might reclaiming that thing ripple into the wider world?
The other day, as I pulled on my favourite sweatpants (no judgment, please), I felt a strange energy—like a memory nudging me. Suddenly, I was back in my best friend’s basement, surrounded by colour and our fave music playing on the stereo.
We used to spend hours talking about fabrics, putting outfits together, deciding not just what to wear, but how we wanted to feel. It was a small, simple joy. One that no one could take from us.
We chose it. Again and again.
And now? 30 years later? It’s gone. Not because I consciously let it go. Not because I decided it wasn’t important. But because, somewhere along the way, I stopped valuing the small things.
Have you lost something like that?
Something that once felt effortless and fun?
Something that made you feel delightfully creative?
If so, what would it look like to bring it back?
How might it show up in your writing—or whatever creative work you do?
I think about calling in as many small acts of choosing something that feels like me. I imagine showing up to my writing more like myself.
That tiny shift in energy? It carries over to the page.
I’ve seen it before—when I changed my environment (working out of cafes once per week), when I gave myself space to breathe between clients instead of lining meetings up back to back, when I played with new foods instead of eating the same thing over and over, when I reached for books outside my usual reading list.
Every single one of those things was small. Within my control.
Just … a choice. A decision.
And the accumulation of those small choices? It changed the trajectory of my writing career. Not in one big, obvious, sweeping motion. But in a series of small gusts of wind, carrying me further than I ever realized.
We can’t show up to change the world if we’re running on empty. And I just mute all the people saying otherwise. I’m not interested in showing up as a shell because no one benefits from that!
We can’t push for transformation (in ourselves and in the world) if we’re depleted.
Too many before us had to keep going that way. But we don’t.
These small acts—choosing colour, choosing movement, choosing joy—are radical.
And sure, it might feel silly to think that playing with clothes, music, or textures could possibly contribute to something bigger.
But real, transformative change has never happened without someone first listening to the quiet, radical ideas.
So, what’s one small thing you can reinsert into your everyday life today?
Reflective Question: What small act of joy is waiting for you to choose it again?
I wanna know! Please reply and share your thoughts!
with love
Chelene
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