Sometimes my creativity is firing on all cylinders. I’m full of ideas and energy. Then there are those times when it’s as elusive as rain in this Colorado drought. That’s where I’ve found myself the past couple of weeks. Ideas wouldn’t come and if they had I would not have had the energy to implement them anyway.

I’m pretty sure I know why.

Anna, Abigail, my dad and I spent the morning cleaning out the horse trailer. This was the 4th of July, Independence Day. I love the 4th. I love what it stands for. I love the history and I love this country. I still believe in the American Dream, still believe that what our forefather’s fought and died for is worthwhile.

But this year was different. This year, though the heat was suffocating, we closed all the windows in the house against the smoke that burned our eyes. This year we watched the sky, orange and eerie with smoke. We worried for those closer to the fire, those whose homes and businesses were being destroyed.

We checked Facebook, and other sites for updates on the Spring fire burning south of us. We read reports of 300 foot high flames  rolling north like a giant tsunami, firefighters powerless against it. We calculated it’s distance to us, and tried to remember what, if any natural defenses existed, then realized the dry the conditions and dry lighting posed an even greater threat.

I talked to the girls about how we would evacuate if needed, where we would go, how we would reconnect if separated, and we put plans in place. Because I’m a planner and because I refuse to go down without a fight, I contemplated plans for saving our home should the fire reach us and I ran my plans by my firefighter brother. I know this is unlikely, but my girls depend on me and I’d rather over prepare unnecessarily than find out too late that I was overly optimistic.

So on the 4th, we cleaned the trailer. It was still full of construction supplies from a renovation. I was hoping to clean out the garage and make some shelving for lumber before tackling that task but the pre-evacuation line was now just a mile or so away from our home. With two horses, a calf, two cats, two dogs and almost 40 chickens, we needed a plan, needed to be prepared. That meant the trailer needs to be ready and available.

When reports came of rain in the fire area, I cried. When the rain reached us, I stood outside and with the rain falling on me, I cried again. Never mind that it lasted less than 5 minutes and wasn’t enough to make mud. It was rain and with it a promise that maybe this drought would not last forever, that someday my creek and pasture might return.

Two weeks ago, we’d celebrated my parent’s 50th anniversary. It had been a full week. Family arrived from out of state. The 30’ x 60’ tent was erected in my backyard. A dance floor was built, lights hung, and food prepared. A old friend agreed to sing, play guitar, be the DJ for special requests and provide sound equipment. The porta-potty was delivered. Invitations had gone out weeks before.

It was perfect. “Like  a scene from Parenthood,” my daughter Katie said. And it was. Nearly 70 friends and family gathered. We ate, danced, sang, and reconnected with some we’d nearly let slip away. At 2 o’clock in the morning, when I finally fell into bed, my heart was happy and full, but my body was exhausted!

The next day, with a houseful of company, I realized my well was having serious issues. Rather than pumping water, it was pumping sand, then it quit pumping all together. I was fairly certain the bottom of the well had caved in, but all of the well guys were busy. With very little snow this past winter and virtually no rain this year, mine wasn’t the only well having issues.

Five days and several hundred dollars later, we had water in the house again. It was a temporary set up, connected to a water tank that needed filled almost daily from 10 miles down the mountain, but we could exist. Two days after that, a well company arrived and confirmed my suspicions. The lower part of the well had collapsed. They were able to make some adjustments and within a couple of hours, the well was working again. Next week, in a effort to avoid further collapse, they will add a new liner to the well and we hope the well will continue producing enough water to carry us through the drought.

Fatigue and stress. 

These two, more than anything else can kill my creativity and I’ve had plenty of both in recent weeks. I was lamenting to my son, that while I’ve accomplished practically nothing since the party, my brother has managed to rip up carpet, remove tile flooring and lay a new floor. Joseph reminded me that dry wells and wild fires are not insignificant events. He’s right, of course.

Sometimes life is stressful and we do get tired. Things outside of our control invade our lives, thwart our plans and steal our energy. Fortunately, this is a temporary situation and I’ve found 5 strategies for re-igniting my creativity. Maybe some of them will work for you too.

1. Rest

Sleep. Be lazy. Putz around the house doing little things or nothing at all. Just rest. It’s fuel for your creative engine.

2.   Read

I’m a reader. I read to keep my mind sharp and challenge my thinking. I read to learn. I read for fun. I read to relax.

So when I’m tired and stressed, reading helps me unwind. I usually reach for one of our old Sonlight Curriculum read-aloud books. Reading out loud to the kids remains among my most cherished memories.  It doesn’t really matter so much what I read as long as it’s light and fun.

3.   Do something completely unrelated

When creative thoughts are difficult to find, it helps to do something completely unrelated. Sit on the porch and watch the hummingbirds. Go to a Demolition Derby, or a movie; anything to disconnect for a minute or five.

4.  Enjoy other’s creativity

I read other’s blogs, flip through magazines, browse Pinterest or watch HGTV. I let other’s creativity inspire my own.

5. Start

After I’ve rested, I just start. Usually, this involves a tape measure. I revisit the space I know I want to tackle. I measure, then re-measure. I might choose a fabric, paint color or flooring. It doesn’t really matter. I just start.

If I’ve allowed myself to rest and disconnect, that’s enough to open the spigot and the creativity starts flowing again. This time the bathroom was the object of my measuring and I can’t wait to get started!

 

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