There are days when the creative side of my brain doesn’t show up the way I need it to.
Not because I’m unmotivated. Not because I’m burned out. But because certain types of thinking—naming, solving, writing, designing, directing—require a particular kind of clarity. And occasionally, that clarity slips out of reach for a few hours.
That doesn’t mean I stop working. It means I switch modes.
Because creativity isn’t a faucet. It’s a fire. And fires don’t restart with pressure—they restart with fuel.
So on those days, I do something small and physical. I move furniture. I style a shelf. I repaint a bathroom or replant a pot. I give myself something immediate to improve.
It’s not a distraction. It’s a reset.
Low-Stakes Beauty, High-Impact Effect
Rearranging a room isn’t a substitute for strategy, storytelling, or big-picture ideation. But it’s still composition. It’s instinct. It’s trust in my creative eye, even when my analytical brain is tired.
And more importantly, it’s momentum.
When I style a space or finish a task I can physically see, it reminds me that I know how to create. That confidence tends to follow me back to the work that matters most.
It may not look like a creative breakthrough.
But it often leads to one.
Creativity Can Be Coaxed
In a leadership role—especially in creative or CX-focused work—there’s constant pressure to produce, to decide, to originate. The thinking is: if you’re not generating ideas, you’re not delivering value.
But creativity isn’t always loud. It doesn’t always show up at a whiteboard.
Sometimes, it shows up while you’re folding towels.
Sometimes, it catches up to you mid-rearrangement, when something clicks into place and suddenly, so do you.
That’s why I don’t wait for clarity to return on its own. I build toward it—quietly, deliberately, and often with a measuring tape in hand.
Final Thought
If your mind ever slows or your vision temporarily blurs, don’t assume you’re blocked.
You might just need a different kind of ignition.
Tidy a drawer. Move a lamp. Cook something with colors that make you happy. Let your brain find rhythm through motion. Let your confidence rebuild itself through beauty.
This isn’t procrastination.
It’s process.
And sometimes, it’s exactly how the real work begins.
