For the Birds: New moon momentum

Five actionable steps for when you want to create, but you're feeling stuck (For my paid readers <3)

Thanks for being here! These letters are born of my own artistic vision, but they carry the hope of encouraging you in yours. Paid readers gain access to The Resiliency Circle & receive nourishment all month long: stories, essays, and prompts to support you in bringing creativity to the surface of your days, always with sustainability + enchantment in mind.

Experimenting with shapes and phrases.

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When yr feeling internally inspired, but externally stuck

In the small group program I co-teach with my collab bff,

Mallory Hasty

, a conversation recently sprang up about inspiration + ability.

What exactly is happening when we find ourselves wanting to make, but can’t?

To be clear, I think “ability” can mean a few different things: having a tangible idea, or having enough spoons, or having the right amount of time, or having the necessary tools.

In other words, I’m talking about those moments when the desire to create is present, but the conditions for creating are not. Are these moments especially common for us neurodivergent folks? (Do we carry a greater persistency of inspiration alongside an increased prevalence of obstacles?) I’m asking genuinely—and I hope you’ll tell me what you think—though I already suspect that it’s true.

There are lots of times when fighting the material conditions of reality won’t be the healthy way forward, like when you desperately need physical or cognitive rest, or you *genuinely* don’t have immediate time to spare.

But when there’s time, interest and desire, AND you’re still feeling stuck? At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I think this can feel like torture.

Today, I come bearing good news: These tortured moments are also GREAT moments for agency, experiment, and random choice-making. Let’s get really specific and tangible about what that might look like…

Specific and tangible.

First, a short story

A couple weeks ago, my partner and I went for a hike at Mirror Lake. Located near the southern edge of the Columbia River Gorge, the drive to the trailhead brought our little Subaru closer and closer and closer to Mt. Hood, until we had to crane our necks to take in the full image before us.

As seen from the peak of our hike (no neck-craning required).

If you’ve never seen this mountain up close…well, I don’t know what to tell you, and that’s part of what’s bothering me! There is something so glorious and shocking about seeing Mt. Hood at close proximity, and though I’ve seen the view multiple times, it doesn’t stay seen; every vision feels like the first vision.

There is a pang in my chest asking me to take the feeling inside my body (the feeling of looking at Mt. Hood, or the feeling of remembering looking at Mt. Hood, it doesn’t matter), and turn it into something artful. But in the weeks since my hike, I’ve been unable to find my way in.

Enter: Some good creative prompting

A good prompt is good not because of what it is, but because of what it allows.

My neurodivergent brain *loves* to be prompted, which I say as someone who frequently struggles with Autistic inertia (and task transitions, too). At its best, a good prompt literally incites inspiration, but even a middling prompt can facilitate just enough tension or contrast to create movement. A good prompt will sooner or later work itself out of a job! This is why I am always singing about the gifts of writing and journaling prompts; it’s why I remain forever compelled to craft new ones and revisit older ones. And it’s why I’m never bored by even the most mediocre prompts, even when I’m responding to one I created myself.¹

Prompts are seeds of inspiration, but they’re also affectionate cognitive tricks! Below is a series of five of them for you to experiment with. Keep these on hand for those days when you’re feeling low on substance, but high on creative impulse.