In the blooming, we discover both new and old parts of ourselves. It can be exhilarating. It can be disconcerting.
A year ago, if someone asked me what my favorite genre of books to read, my favorite artists, my favorite songwriters, my favorite anything…I would have had zero pauses in delivering a rapid-fire response listing no less than a dozen per category before getting embarrassed and squeezing my lips together to force myself to take a breath.
Today, I might pause before responding, blush bright red, lower my eyes and then my head, and take a deep breath followed by an explanation of sorts before confessing to my current favorites. Obsessions really, if I am honest.
Diving headfirst into my creative side beginning with my sabbatical last year has been unnerving, and that is being kind. I tend to defer to the phrase “I am open-handed about….” a lot. Mainly because I have spent the past dozen years or so intent on learning how to let go. Of control, mostly. Other things too though. Most of which I write about in the book I finally completed last summer titled Facedown. Some who have heard, or read, parts of that book, and the current one I am working on The Best is Yet to Come have commented they feel a little like sister books, and I do not disagree. In some ways, the second one is the story of me grappling with the reality of the lessons I learned in the first one. Let’s put a pin in that though as I am currently in the process of working on how that all works. {More to come. Promise.}
For me, on the other side of choosing myself after decades spent choosing everyone but, the strangest thing happened, I discovered that my creative side is the more naturally dominant. Now, I have had a pretty successful career in business, and I doubt anyone who has sat across a boardroom table from me would characterize me as a “creative,” and I just laughed out loud typing that. Boy, do I have some stories about board rooms and conference tables, from the embarrassing to awe-inspiring to cringe-worthy to even the romantic. At twenty-three years of age, the love of my life (unrequited) was introduced to me in a board room across a conference table, and to this day I cannot tell you what either of us was wearing that morning, but I can still describe every inch of his face because I memorized it in the thirty seconds it took for the group of four to handle introductions.
I digress.
Deciding to be open-handed during this transition season was not a hard one, and even as I suspected that my creative side would come more to the surface, I never anticipated how it would expand my taste in music, art, books, food, etc. I also never anticipated how those new tastes would both change me and bring to the surface parts of myself long since buried.
A sampling. Here goes.
Taylor Swift. I am as late to the party as one can be on this one. Also, yes, I do find it extremely odd that a woman in her fifties has both discovered TS and finds her songwriting so dang relatable. To be fair to me, I started listening to her when she launched her latest tour in the spring of 2023 so well before she became a billionaire, TIME Person of the Year, and upended the NFL. Also, let’s be clear that my favorite thing to come of her relationship with Travis Kelce is his brother Jason who I find to be hysterical, down to earth, and attractive. Note, I have had a thing for facial hair since watching Grizzly Adams on television as a child so there is that. At the outset, I could fill a thimble with my knowledge of her, but I was drawn to study her approach to songwriting and felt like there was something for me to learn from her that would help my writing. What I did not expect was to be so impressed by her lyrics, and her approach to her fans, and to be a little smitten by her budding romance. Ever the romantic, I guess that was probably not so unexpected. The truth is that there is a lot to her approach to writing and the creative process that I already follow or have now added to my own. She is dedicated to the craft to be sure. I also respect that she is a smart businesswoman and epic marketer. As a storyteller, there is a lot to be learned from her and how she has incorporated the science behind storytelling into everything she does. As someone who designed a college course on storytelling back in 2020, that I continue to teach from time to time, she offers the perfect example of utilizing the storytelling approach from cultivating a brand to client engagement.
Art. I visited art museums wherever I traveled last summer. To be clear, I have always done that, but last summer felt different. I took my time more when walking through museums, lush gardens, quirky art studios, artisan studios from jewelry to home goods to pottery, and even office buildings with art sprinkled throughout. One of my favorites was the Munch Museum in Oslo, Norway. I spent an entire day there exploring every level. Absolutely the most breathtaking collection I have ever seen. The building itself is art. The staircases to the storage locker rooms. Everything is beautiful and thought out. Their intentionality is clear. I read three art books while in Norway. I am pretty sure that is a first for me. I love art, but I would never EVER call myself an art connoisseur or historian. Collector? Yes. I designed an “art wall” in my cottage on some acreage in Arkansas with the sole intent of hanging original art I have collected over the years on my travels. I have found myself more willing this past year to take the time to look at art I might not have previously enjoyed. It has helped me expand what I love, even when I spend an hour in a room where my face is scrunched up staring at a piece I do not understand (or like) at all. I spent an hour at the Arkansas Museum of Fine Arts in Little Rock pouring through a book on art one rainy afternoon while on an Artist’s Date with myself, and I found that I did not much care for any of it, but I would not ask for that time back. The book was at the very least interesting. The coffee I drank was delicious. The space and furniture I lounged in were beautiful. I felt more creative and relaxed when I left.
Bridgerton. Now, I am as big a fan of history as anyone I know (if you ever see my burgeoning bookshelves, you will also know), and I love historical fiction too. I read a lot of both during the pandemic. I became just a wee bit obsessed with Catherine the Great during that long year. That said, historical fiction romance was not anywhere on my bookshelves. Maybe it was spending so much time in Europe while on sabbatical or having actual free time, but I discovered The Bridgerton Book Series by Julia Quinn and began devouring her books. I am now in another series of hers having completed all eight of the Bridgerton series. I am not saying I was born in the wrong century (and possibly the wrong continent) but reading these books has reminded me that I have wondered that very thing since I was very little. I dream of myself (and others) in different periods, and have all of my life, so it has been fun to have childhood memories of that pop up the more I have read her books. It is also expanding my vocabulary (strangely enough), and I find myself more wistful for a life partner. Julia writes both strong female and male leads, witty and smart. It is hard to find your equal, your match, in this life; her characters make it easier to dream about the possibility.
Food. Everything from my appetite to when I eat to what types of food and drink, I like has all changed this past year. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that this is due to my sabbatical. Four months, seven countries, and a purposeful intention to not say, “No.” to anything helped expand and change everything. I have never been intentional about food like I was during those four months. I thought about food nearly constantly. I ate excruciatingly slow as I savored every morsel. Even the octopus I tried in Italy. Yes, octopus. I ate and drank whenever I was hungry or thirsty, and I did not when I was not. If I did not like something, I stopped. If I loved something, I ate or drank more of it. I cooked more than I had in decades (except for during the pandemic). The time nearly ruined me from living stateside, truth be told. Even the basics taste better (and are healthier) in Europe than they do in the U.S. My appetite is dramatically different today than twelve months ago, and I am not complaining (neither are my doctors). The dramatic decline in stress in my life also had a direct correlation to my approach to food. I perfected eating on the run while in college thirty-plus years ago so imagine the one-eighty shift of that. One thing that has not changed is my love of sandwiches. Ask me what I want to eat, and I will choose a sandwich and chips nine out of every ten times. I have a sandwich/chip combo for every type. My love, even of sandwiches, is intense. One year on my birthday, I asked for a sandwich buffet (of sorts) for my birthday meal and my Sis absolutely died. I got it though, and it was perfect.
Again, I digress.
The truth is there are a dozen other new things or old new things that I have discovered about myself in this season where exploring my creative side has taken center stage. As I have begun closing in on the one-year mark of this new approach to life, I have started waxing nostalgic for a season filled full of firsts, new people, new places, and new things. I am also nostalgic for those things I have rediscovered about myself (and even yes, about others). I am less sure of what the upcoming seasons hold than I thought I would be at this point, and yet more at peace in the unknowing. For those who have known me for more than a year, I will give you a minute to pick yourselves up off the floor.
So much of my life has not turned out like I dreamed it would at various stages and ages. That is not to say that it is all bad. Oftentimes it has turned out to be so much more than anything I might have put on paper. I do not regret any old dream or accomplishment. I do not regret the life I built or the life I led. Every road, every path, brought me here. I am though happy to be more at peace. I am happy to have let go of so much that was simply not me. Those who know me say that I am different yet more me than they have ever witnessed. I am not sure how all of that works, but reckon it is true. The circle of people I allow to influence how I see myself is small and tight these days. They have proven trustworthy and true. Oddly enough, they all loved me before. I do not believe that a fresh blooming makes you more loveable.
What I do believe is that while armor shields and protects us from the world, it also shields us from ourselves. The more battles we have to fight, or responsibilities we bear, the more our armor grows and the more the heart of who we are gets pushed down deeper and deeper. It does not mean you are not a great person, or you do not lead a great life. It means that you are not wholly present in that life. There is no way you can be when so much is buried inside of you.
In Haiti, there is a proverb “Piti piti, zwazo fè nich” which is translated as “Little by little, the bird builds its nest.” I have it on a pillow I bought in Haiti from a local artisan, and it sits in the chair at my desk. I believe it is the best way to describe the journey of this season. Little by little, I am building my own nest, and that nest is me. I am building a mind/body/heart/soul that feels safe and warm, where I can grow, be creative, and create safe spaces for others who are in my life. I want the glow to come from the inside out. I want to feel good to myself, in my own skin.
I do not know if that makes any sense to anyone but me, but there it is.
Author’s Note: I took thousands of photos on my sabbatical, so this is in no way a photographic journey of my creative discovery during that time or in the months since, but I thought I would share a couple of the Munch Museum which I remain a bit obsessed with to be sure. 10/10 recommend it and 10/10 recommend Norway.
Taylor 👯♀️