Driving down Lake Shore Drive this morning, I saw a lone man playing his saxaphone, facing a tree. He was on that small plot of grass that runs alongside the Drive around Montrose, where there is a homeless encampment. I was thinking, "He must really want privacy to trek all the way out there just to play his sax."
Maybe he's finally playing out now that clubs are open. I bet he's elated and excited to be on stage again, yet also needing time and headspace to remain centered in his craft. So he hiked out to his public practice room (aka a tree next to a busy road) to get some "city space".
I get it. As a Creative, I need to regularly tap into my own ideations + side roads. Having huge swaths of time to just BE is non-negotiable for me. In those times of seemingly "doing nothing", I'm actually percolating, nourishing my wild child, giving her freedom to run and play and question and giggle and stare off into the sky. And every time, every time, she rewards me with inspiration, clarity, direction, next steps.
This duality of vulnerably exploring our gifts and courageously bringing them out into the light of day is a cultivated skill for any Creative. We cannot share what we do not have. Our Muse always reminds us when it's time to return, listen and breathe.