My earliest memories of creativity come from kindergarten art class and summer camp. There were punched leather bracelets, wooden lanyards decorated with our camp names and friendship bracelets made with colorful DMC floss.
Summer camp was a place where creativity was encouraged. There was no homework waiting to be finished and, as far as I remember, very little housework. We were simply given the time and materials to make something.
At home, usefulness generally took precedence.
My grandmother often purchased little craft kits for me to work on when I visited. Yet, as “the oldest responsible child” and grandchild, I sensed that my place was beside her in the kitchen, helping with meals and cleaning up afterward. Or I could be found assisting my grandfather with whatever project he was tackling at one of his commercial properties.
There was always something practical to be done. Creativity could wait.
Perhaps many of us learned some version of this: finish your homework, help with the dishes, take care of what needs to be done and then, if there is time left, do something simply because you enjoy it.
It was not until college, during long Midwestern winters with freezing temperatures and plenty of time indoors, that I discovered cross-stitch. One can only study for so many hours before needing another kind of outlet. Stitching gave my hands something to do while allowing my mind to wander.
After college, creativity began finding its way into my life through flowers. One summer, a friend taught me how to create wedding arrangements. I also learned to style flowers and greenery for the holidays, beginning a love affair with flowers that has stayed with me ever since.
Then, at 26, creativity took an unexpected turn.
A business owner preparing to retire approached me about purchasing her needlepoint shop. What did I know about buying and running a retail business, let alone the needlepoint industry? This was certainly not what I had studied in college. In fact, I was considering going back to school for an MBA.
After consulting several entrepreneurs in my family, I was encouraged to take the leap. They told me it would be the best real-life MBA I could receive. They were right.
The shop taught me many aspects of running a business, including managing inventory, employees, customers and contracted finishers. It also opened my eyes to what can happen when something we enjoy creatively becomes our full-time profession. I spent nearly every waking moment stitching models to inspire customers and show them what their canvases might become.
Ironically, the hobby that had once been an outlet became another responsibility.
After seven years, I sold the shop to a customer who was excited to carry the baton forward. I went on to build other things: a second-home management company, a corporate event business and a nonprofit that gifted bouquets of flowers to people receiving end-of-life care.
Looking back, I can see that creativity was present in all of it, even when I might not have described it that way.
Creativity is not limited to painting, writing or making something with our hands. It can be how we arrange flowers, set a table, wrap a gift or write a note. It can be how we solve a problem, welcome people into a room or create an experience that helps them connect. It can be found in what we notice and in the possibilities we imagine.
How many of us are being creative in our everyday lives without recognizing it as such?
Traveling, meeting new people and encountering unfamiliar ideas continue to fill my creative “bank.” Ideas often arrive when I am walking, noticing or doing something completely unrelated. Creativity seems to flourish when there is a little room for curiosity and an occasional opening in the calendar.
And yet, making time for it has often remained a side note in my life, something to enjoy only after everything on my list has been completed. I suspect I am not alone.
The trouble is that responsible tasks never completely end. There is always laundry, a bill to pay, an email to answer or something useful we could be learning. When creativity must wait until every obligation is finished, it spends a great deal of time waiting.
I am learning that creativity does not always need a purpose, recipient or measurable result. It does not have to become a business or contribute to something larger. Sometimes it can simply be for us, or perhaps something we eventually choose to share with another.
I would like to write a book someday. I would also like to become more serious about sketching and watercolor, perhaps using both for travel and nature journaling. Several favorite unfinished needlework projects are patiently waiting for my return, as are a few blankets and sweaters I aspire to complete.
Perhaps you have something waiting for you, too. Something you once enjoyed, have always wanted to try or keep promising yourself you will return to when there is more time.
At this stage of my life, I am trying to create a better balance, integrating creativity into my work and the rest of my life rather than treating it as a reward for getting everything else done.
That desire is part of why I started Lines in Time: to create opportunities for joy, connection and creativity, for others and for me. Life is short, and creativity, in its many forms, makes it infinitely more interesting and rich.
Of course, no sooner do I make a little room for creativity than someone arrives with a list of more practical things I could be doing. Perhaps you recognize that voice, too.
Mine is industrious, persistent and deeply suspicious of time spent without a measurable result.
Her name is Prudence.
