The story of a home — a constellation of creativity.
inviting you in for a cup of coffee and a cosy chat — part two.
I’m Lyndsay, mother, creative and storyteller with a background in interiors PR. Story & Thread. is a weekly letter exploring the intersection of creativity, mothering and the living world, with a home and a garden at the heart...
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“The desire to go home that is a desire to be whole, to know where you are, to be the point of intersection of all the lines drawn through all the stars…”
—Rebecca Solnit.
Hello everyone
How is everyone feeling this week?
Last night we landed into a breathtakingly clear, cold night and were carried home by the silvery light of a half-moon suspended in an inky sky. Coming in to land, the lights of London twinkled below us like a constellation of miniature stars drawing us home.
Despite the sunbursts and welcome warmth of our sojourn to winter sunshine, I am still feeling the soft shell of the January cocoon wrapped around me. It is almost as though I have been existing within a (lovely) summer dream scene where time froze, except of course, life has continued without us, and we have returned to a glacial deepening of this month.
Being away from home, alongside the spirit of wintry inwardness drew me to picking up on my story of home. Writing mostly from afar, I had a wider lens on the feelings conjured by our four walls, and in other ways it seemed to blur at the edges.
Either way, I hope you will join me for a chat about constellations of creativity at home over a cup of coffee, or indeed tea (I have had both this morning!)…
This letter is based on the INSIDER series which explores the inside stories of our homes as a foundation for nurture, creativity and as an anchor to our surroundings.
The first chapter in this series included a re-introduction and my thoughts about creating meaning at home, today’s second instalment will explore how home is a foundation for creativity, a place we can begin from — with more to come on the nurturing and seasonal aspects of home, followed by my aspirations and sources of inspiration.
I hope this allows you to get to know me a bit better through the (very slowly evolving) story of a home…
A creative home.
Living creatively is important to me; I fill the rare quiet moments with words, colour, scent, sound, taste and texture. I write to reclaim space for my thoughts, to explore and learn more about the things I am intrigued by —but most of all, to notice, appreciate and tell the everyday stories of our life together, in the hope of framing a fragment in time.
Even when we are not creating masterpieces each day, our homes have the potential to nurture our creativity and be a canvas, a conduit and a constellation of living creatively.
The word ‘create’ is thought to have come into use in the early 15th century meaning “to bring into being” and comes from the Latin creare or root creat- meaning "to make, bring forth, produce”. It is also related to Ceres and to crescere "arise, be born, increase, grow” — Ceres was the Roman goddess of farming, fertility, growth, nourishment and interestingly, motherly relationships. She was honoured for releasing the creative and regenerative power of the earth — I love this connection with earth as mother and the most powerful creative force.
The meaning of creativity according to the Cambridge Dictionary is “the ability to produce or use original and unusual ideas”, which rather than referring solely to artistic pursuits, means that creativity can apply to anything we approach with an open, curious mind.
The melding of these ideas — of bringing something into being, of growth, and of an inquisitive approach, lie at the essence of living creatively for me.
As many of you know via my ATELIER series exploring the places we live in creatively, I am in the process of reimagining a space in our home, away from the messiness and distractions downstairs — carving out space for creativity at home where I can go to find space to journal, move, write, dream…
We have just painted the room in a warm plastery pink, have an old dining table for a desk and a second-hand bookcase holding magazines, books and notebooks, in place. It still needs work — a rug, lamp, cushions and art on the walls for starters, but it already feels wonderful to have a space for my treasured belongings and a space to land in softness, to trace my outline, sensing where my edges begin and end — a return inward after being drawn out of myself by two dynamic (and demanding!) little beings.
Creativity takes place in the alone-time I have (currently the two mornings my children are at nursery); but also very much in the edges of my everyday with two small children (who are 2 and very nearly 4 years old), in the small pockets when they are asleep, or are occupied; and of course, woven within the consuming daily narrative of our time together.
Yes we are ‘being creative’ when we sit down to draw and paint, to read together and play in the garden; but more often it is in the in-between moments — of lighting candles and fairy lights in the depths of the darkest mornings, putting on a playlist to conjure cosiness, it is noticing the shoots emerging from the earth and turning towards the moon shapes in the sky.
As Louise Erdich says in ‘The Blue Jay’s Dance: A Birth Year’, the act of bringing children into the world, of pouring yourself into their care, ultimately to allow them to fly, is a great act of creativity alone, “growing, bearing, mothering or fathering, supporting and at last letting go of an infant is a powerful and mundane creative act that rapturously sucks up whole chunks of life”.
Until recently, I existed entirely in their world, which although can be enchanting, requires a great deal of effort, attention and patience. Incrementally though, I hope to draw them in to my world too, allowing them to experience the things that have always lit me up, even before they came into being. And slowly but surely, I find that the most easeful creative moments happen when we are existing together side-by-side, but quietly busy pottering and doing our own things.
For me, living creatively is noticing the details, observing the way the light falls and the texture or tone of a space. It is bringing meaning to the little things and remembering the beauty in the ordinary. It is having a reverence for the way we live, making it into a ritual. It is layering intention, sacredness and wonder to feel the magic and joy in simplicity. And when I feel the guilt for not doing enough, I hope that modelling this curiosity is plenty.
Creativity in this chapter of life is simultaneously feeling contentment and wonder when the stars align to find fragments of flow, and of feeling at home — both in myself and my surroundings.
A new layer of creativity I have experienced in the months since moving my musings to
, is that creativity is also fostered by connection and community, and is something I didn’t realise I was missing.Having conversations here continues to set off a spiral of new ideas and a way of both seeing things differently, and myself more clearly, so thank you all for being here and allowing me to read your thoughts too.
I would love to hear where you feel most creative at home…
I hope we can chat more in the comments.
By surrounding myself with creativity from other people (embroidered tablecloths, original art, beautiful glass etc) I find inspiration and reassurance that I, too, can produce something beautiful and original. Even if it's a meal, a piece of writing, or a rough sketch in my sketchbook. We need to try and be in tune with our surroundings and not force it. Love this post, Lyndsay.
Such a timely reminder of creativity being in the small moments, and not just the rare blessed sitting alone at desk ones! ❤️