Smudging the Edges: How Creativity Connects Knowledge & Soulful Knowing
When was the last time you let yourself stumble into something unexpected?
I often reflect on how understanding something in theory doesn’t always translate to knowing it in my soul. Last month, at a creative retreat, I had the chance to try a new medium—and fell in love. Why didn’t anyone ever tell me about oil pastels? Read on to find out how they’ve become a key, to unlocking passageways between my head and my heart.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. Psalm 119: 14
I keep an eye on the #100dayproject (which is in full swing on Insta), and even though I’m not officially taking part, I find myself inspired by those that are. Embracing something new requires practice and patience, a gradual unfolding of your unique expression.
I began a practice of creating a bookmark each day, symbolizing what I’ve discovered about God during my quiet time and/or an attempt to understand the stirrings within.
Some things can’t be put into words and playing with oil pastels feels like tapping into unchiseled territory, where the raw and unspoken can start to take form.
Yet, as this creative spark lights up, it triggers parts of me that carry responsibilities and agendas. Nurturing creativity isn’t at the top of their priority list.
The tension is evident, and I’m learning this tug of war isn’t a sign of failure – it’s proof of life, of a stretching toward something new. The following words surfaced from the wrestling match:
Note: Scriptures were added after the fact.
Come out, come out wherever you are! Parts trying to contain me—the creative spirit smells agenda a mile away. Back behind bars she goes. With passion on one side, panic on the other—a desperate determination to figure her out.
How long must I sit before she peeks out again? She seeks spacious places to breathe in fresh air. Pulling it deep into her being. Breath… life… Yahweh.
Making room for this stranger is both exhilarating and exhausting. She refuses to be contained, while my manager part refuses to give free reign. This tension is uncomfortable and exhausting.
Much like spring and winter battling for dominance, I feel caught in the crossfire. My internal world mirrors the external one— like the political tug of war, pushing right then pulling left. Holding the discomfort while trying to find hope. What is mine to do? And how do I show up for it?
The invitation to sit, feels wrong. And yet, in stillness, without words —in His presence— Without any part leaving the room, the light of love breaks in.
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28
No question answered. No grandiose plan. Just a quiet whisper: Follow me… follow my love… follow my light.
The robins outside the window, catch my eye, I notice their busyness is different from mine. Instinctual. In the moment. It’s evident they’re dressed in the armor of light.
Try as I might, my edges refuse to get inside the cookie cutter where they’ve always been. Rather than ignore this sense, I wonder what this is about.
What is the opposite of containment? From thesaurus - Permission. Enlargement. Expansion. Allowance.
Spaciousness radiates within me as I allow these words into my system. The lines of all the rigid rules are fading and both the rule keeper and creative one soften. Not a black-and-white answer, but glimmers of hope, possibility and surprise.
I try each word on. Permission: My rule-keeper part resists. "It’s vague. No edges." Enlargement: Too loose, too big, too broad. Expansion: My word for 2023—I’ll always have room for this one, even if it tires my rule-keeper part. Allowance: This word feels different. It suggests holding space for the tension. Containment remains, not erased but altered, like an elastic waistband, flexible yet holding shape (I can’t help but picture those polyester pants my mom wore).
This past week, I had a dream where all the rules vanished. It was one of those restless sleeps - frustration at every turn, agitation deep in my bones. Later upon reflection, I was reminded that rules were made to give us freedom.
As I write that, both the creative one and rule keeper simultaneously say, “Did you hear that?” Common ground…Maybe we don’t need to fight for space; we can share it instead!
We struck a deal: limit the art to this medium for now. No YouTube rabbit holes. No endless tutorials. Just oil pastels and a bookmark a day.
Next day, still in the midst of the tension, something shifted. This formulated…
The part of me ALWAYS searching for answers softens. While it chose black in an act of defiance, begging for a black and white answer – something truer - found its way to the page…all without words, at first.
This medium allows space for my heart to speak. In a noisy world, this act of creativity opens my posture to receive.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts. Isaiah 55:9
What about you? What questions are you carrying? Maybe carving out space to create is a way of listening - letting your heart reveal what words can’t yet capture.
Let’s encourage one another…open the Substack app, find this post, click the comment button and share.
I’d love to know how you create space for your heart to speak. What creative outlets have you discovered? Is there something you’ve wanted to try but have yet to pursue? Maybe now’s the time to go grab your calendar and schedule it in.
Til next time,
Lisa
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love this, Lisa. i'm picturing a baby chick doing the hard work of making her way into the world where she knows she'll be free to grow and spread her wings and fly!
Since I am one who enjoys physical activity, I have found that listening to Christian music as I work is a way of being creative. Also, coloring pages in my new bible that my sister gave me. Coloring helps me reflect on those verses.