As the seasons shift, many of us feel a familiar tension in the air. Here in Minnesota, winter and spring seem to negotiate daily—cold mornings giving way to warmer afternoons, hinting at what’s ahead. This in-between season can feel long. We anticipate brighter days, open windows, and time outdoors.
But transitional seasons aren’t just about weather. They mirror the quieter waiting periods in our own lives—the space between where we are and where we hope to be.
How often do we find ourselves waiting for the right moment to begin? The right timing. The right clarity. The right confidence.
Recently, I’ve been reflecting on the role inspiration plays in those in-between spaces. In a culture saturated with productivity strategies and self-improvement advice, we can lose sight of something simpler and more human: creative living.
Elizabeth Gilbert, in Big Magic, describes inspiration as something external—a spark that comes to us, offering an invitation. We can choose to engage with it, or we can let it pass. She writes, “Ideas are driven by a single impulse: to be made manifest.”
That perspective reframes creativity. It’s less about striving and more about partnership. Ideas may visit us, but it’s our willingness to act—however imperfectly—that brings them into the world.
So instead of waiting for a surge of motivation, perhaps we begin smaller. Perhaps inspiration begins with attention. Or even compassion.
Compassion for ourselves when we feel stuck.
Compassion for the unfinished draft, the imperfect start, the slow progress.
Compassion for others who are also navigating their own waiting seasons.
Sometimes the most powerful creative act is simply choosing to show up—with patience and curiosity.
AI can organize and streamline our tasks. It can ease communication. It can help us create, prioritize, strategize, even heal. But while its potential for improving our lives is undeniable, the current reality sometimes feels more like overproductivity than liberation.
Reflection That Moves You Forward
If you’re in a reflective space, here are a few questions to consider:
- What ideas have been quietly returning to you lately?
- When during your week do you feel most energized or engaged?
- What small step could you take toward something that matters to you?
- What fear might be asking for acknowledgment rather than avoidance?
- Who around you could use encouragement—and how might supporting them reignite something in you?
Frustration is not a detour in the creative process; it is part of it. Growth requires resilience. Disappointment refines commitment.
Instead of asking, “What am I passionate about?” consider asking, “What am I willing to stay committed to, even when it’s difficult?” That question often reveals a deeper, steadier form of inspiration—one rooted not in excitement alone, but in meaning.
The essential ingredients of creative living—courage, persistence, trust, curiosity—are available to all of us. Perfectionism and fear may try to convince us otherwise, but creativity has never required flawlessness. It requires participation.
This season, rather than simply waiting for change, we can gently engage with it. A small act of courage. A note written down. A conversation started. An idea nurtured.
Inspiration doesn’t always arrive as a lightning bolt. Sometimes it begins as a quiet decision to care.
As you move through this transitional season, may you notice what’s stirring within you. May you act on one small spark. And may you extend compassion—to yourself and to others—as you do.
Reference:
Gilbert, E. (2016). Big Magic. Penguin Usa.
