The morning sun turns the snow a pale gold outside my window; shadows lay in soft gray. The sky is bright blue behind the pine tree. It’s cold—around 20 degrees—but the light brings its own kind of warmth.
My dog, Lucy, sits on her bed in front of the window, watching the world. I see a trail in the snow, to and from the pine tree, made by a neighbor’s cat. I imagine Lucy wishes a cat would walk by right now, and bring a little excitement to her morning.
Lucy comes over, lays her face against my leg, and looks into my eyes. I pet her for a while, telling her how much I love her. She soaks in the sound of my voice, as though it is sunlight.
But I need to write this blog, so I tell her it’s time to go play with her toy. She grabs a colorful wool octopus and plays for a few minutes. Then she’s by my side again, wanting more attention.
Like my mind, she’s looking for something to land on, to keep her focused for a while.
I take her outside. We stand on the deck, where moisture evaporates like smoke from the fence. A small moment to appreciate the beauty of this world.
Back inside, she’s still restless. I fill her favorite puzzle toy with treats. (No one could call me co-dependent with my dog—unless they knew me.) Now she’s alternately dropping the toy and flailing it back and forth between her paws to get the kibble out.
When I create—like writing this blog—I do something similar. I toss ideas around in my head, like a salad, hoping an olive will pop to the surface, a tasty morsel of inspiration.
So here’s this week’s nugget: create from where you are. It doesn’t have to be a masterpiece. Don’t demand of your creativity, greatness; just let it be what it is.
Small moments, like looking into the eyes of a little brown dog, accumulate in our lives. They inform its meaning as much as any grand philosophy.
Be present. Appreciate what is. Create from here.