Creativity : Inside the Process, Part 2
Inside the process -
Part 2
Living the process.
The Process as Mirror – Creativity and Life
There’s a familiar adage: “Life imitates art.” Over time, I’ve found this to be profoundly true. My creative process is not static—it’s a living, breathing entity. It shapes how I tackle challenges, engage in relationships, and grow as a person. Every insight I gain in the studio offers something meaningful beyond it. Likewise, each life experience I bring into the studio inevitably influences what I create. In this way, the creative process becomes a microcosm of life.
One of the first things my art practice taught me was how to honor the stage of resistance. I’ve written about it before and imagine I’ll return to it often, because resistance is one of the most misunderstood aspects of any process. Culturally, we’re taught to avoid it, push through it, or fight it off. But resistance creates a necessary internal tension—an invisible push and pull. For me, it often appears right at the threshold of transition, quietly shaping everything that follows. It signals that something is preparing to emerge—a kind of soul marination.
When I try to bypass resistance and simply go through the motions of beginning a new piece, something feels off. The work becomes forced and disjointed. I struggle to sustain the emotional and physical energy needed to continue, I can’t connect to the essence of the piece, and I feel cut off from the flow of creative energy. The result is work that lacks vitality and fluidity—certainly not what I aim for artistically.
And it’s not what I seek in life, either.
I also recognize my artistic process in the stage I call “the mess” (actually, I call this stage “I f’ed it all up”). I’ll explore this more deeply in Part 3 of this series, but for now, I’ll say this: the mess often appears in life as psychological chaos. It’s the moment when everything we thought we were holding together falls apart.
As a mother, I know this stage intimately—it’s deeply humbling. Just before the mess, I was holding all the pieces: school lunches, instrument days, meetings, activities, and snacks. I made extra time for one kid to slowly put on his socks without creases, while the other ran in and out of the house, retrieving forgotten items. Meals were prepped, laundry was done, and the house was clean enough to function. And all of this happened while I tried to maintain a sense of self, pursue my interests, meet professional demands, and tend to relationships.
Then something minor—like forgetting to buy peanut butter—would happen, and suddenly, all the pieces I had been juggling would come crashing down.
Yes, forgetting peanut butter is a surface-level example. But it represents those deeper moments when the life we’ve so carefully constructed turns upside down. In that mess—amid frustration, overwhelm, and even despair—there’s the possibility for something profound: freedom. Freedom from shame. Freedom from the belief that we have to do it all or do it perfectly. Freedom to make mistakes. Freedom to move at our own pace. Why? Because when everything’s already a mess, there’s nothing to lose.
Embracing Life’s Process
Whether in art or in life, when we override, rush, or judge where we are in a process we lose the wisdom of the moment. But when we allow ourselves to be fully in a phase, without shame or urgency, we create the conditions for natural movement. The next step emerges, not through force, but through presence. And in both the joy and the pain of that presence, we truly live.
So what do we do? How do we trust we won’t get stuck if we don’t push ourselves forward? Does this mean we never need help getting where we want to be?
Absolutely not.
It simply means that when we’re overwhelmed by emotion or circumstance, we can try to meet the moment honestly. We can embrace it without shame, ask for support, and stay grounded—open to whatever the process has in store for us next.
After years of applying my creative process to life, I’ve come to realize: if I can remain present and honest with where I am (not more or less than I truly am in that moment), the experience itself will guide me back to a grounded sense of self—strong, intuitive, innovative, and empowered.
Because the one truth of human life is that it’s always in motion. Nothing stays the same. We are always in process.
Reflection
Each of us has a unique rhythm, shaped by our history, personality, and lived experience. The more we pay attention, the more clearly we can sense what’s fleeting and what’s enduring. Sometimes, simply naming the phase we’re in is enough.
So, where are you in your process right now?
Are you beginning something new, resisting a change, making a mess, feeling stuck, or noticing something coming to an end?
Take a moment to check in. What’s alive for you right now? If it feels right, share in the comments. There’s power in naming where we are.
In the next post, I’ll share the 11 phases of my creative rhythm—messy, raw, and real.
