The Quiet After the Noise
There’s a kind of hush that comes after a big moment—the lights dim, the messages slow down, and you’re left with the echo of your own heartbeat. After my exhibition, I hit that hush hard. I stopped sharing. I didn’t write. Workshops went on pause. And even though I love my work deeply, everything felt… still.
I used to call this “stuck.” Now I’m learning to call it listening.
When Life Asks You to Go Gently
We just moved. Boxes, new routines, new corners of home that don’t know us yet. I expected to bounce back quickly, but my body and heart had a different plan. They asked for quiet. For slowness. For the permission to be in-between.
And honestly? That’s uncomfortable. My old habits wanted a plan, a checklist, a triumphant post. Instead, I chose to honor the truth: I was tired. Tender. And still worthy of my own compassion.
Creativity Isn’t a Switch—It’s a Tide
When I finally returned to the studio, it wasn’t with fireworks. It was with breath. I stood in front of a canvas and let the first marks be clumsy and honest. Creativity rarely arrives as a perfect idea; it arrives as permission—to play, to feel, to not know.
That first session back didn’t make a masterpiece. It made movement. And that movement changed everything.
What I’m Learning (Again)
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Rest is part of the work. The pause is not failure; it’s compost.
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Messy is holy. Beauty often reveals itself on the other side of “I don’t like this yet.”
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Small steps count. Ten honest minutes can reopen the door.
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Compassion is fuel. Shame drains; kindness restores.
If You’re in the In-Between Too
Maybe you’re also moving through a season of transition—after the holidays, after a big push, after a life change that rearranged the furniture inside your heart.
Here’s a soft practice to try this week:
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Name the season (three words): e.g., “Listening. Integrating. Rooting.”
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Choose one gentle action that takes 10 minutes or less: a color wash on paper, three lines in your journal, a single song to sway to in the kitchen.
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Leave a trace: a date in your notebook, a photo of your palette, a line that says, “I showed up today.”
You don’t have to be ready for “big.” You just have to be willing to begin.
What’s Next: Soul Journey Returns (Nov 10)
If your heart is craving a guided container to reconnect with your creativity, I’d love to welcome you into Soul Journey, my 7-week painting & healing experience beginning November 10 (Mondays, 8:30–10:45 PM IST / 1:30–3:45 PM EST). It’s designed for exactly these moments—when you want to move from stuck to flow, gently and together.
Inside, we paint, breathe, journal, and listen. We practice letting go of old layers, honoring your pace, and finding the beauty that emerges when you stay with the process.
If it’s your season to return, you’re invited.
→ Join Soul Journey (starts Nov 10).
P.S. (for readers who like logistics)
We’ll meet live on Zoom, and there’s a WhatsApp group for gentle accountability and community. You’ll get supply guidance, replays when needed, and clear prompts to help you show up—lovingly and consistently.
