Making Space for Art

April 20, 2025


In a world that praises hustle and productivity above all else, it’s far too easy for our creative selves to fall silent. The days fill quickly — with work, responsibilities, family, obligations, all those unseen weights we carry. And somewhere beneath the noise, beneath the calendar alerts and unread messages, there’s a quieter voice, a softer presence asking gently, What about me?

That voice is the artist within — the part of you that doesn’t speak in deadlines or checklists, but in colors, phrases, rhythms, questions. It waits patiently, hoping for a little space to breathe. But the truth is, it won’t force its way in. If the dream is to live a life of creativity — not just in theory, but in practice — then we must offer that part of ourselves a seat at the table. We must make room.

Not just someday. Not when the kids are older or the job settles down or the house is finally clean. Now. In the middle of the mess and movement and noise. Because art, real art — the kind that changes you while you're making it — doesn't arrive on schedule. It slips in through the quiet moments you protect, through the rituals you choose to honor. It wants to live in the early hours before anyone else is awake, or in the dusky light after the world has exhaled. It wants to be invited, not squeezed in.

We often say, I just don’t have the time, as though time is a scarce and external force beyond our control. But often, it’s not time that’s missing — it’s permission. Permission to let art matter. To let it take up space, not as a luxury or an afterthought, but as a vital organ in the body of our lives. We rearrange our schedules for everything else: meetings, errands, obligations that feel urgent but not necessarily important. What if we gave our creativity the same weight? What if art wasn’t an extra, but the anchor?

You don’t need hours to begin. Ten minutes with your journal can be sacred. A voice memo recorded while driving. A napkin sketch between bites of lunch. These acts may seem small, but they are declarations — quiet, insistent reminders to the self: This matters. I matter. Creativity isn’t measured in productivity. It’s measured in presence. In attention. In the courage to return to yourself again and again, even when the world is pulling you away.

To live a life rooted in passion is not to wait for perfect conditions. It is to choose what you love — in the middle of chaos, in the midst of distraction, despite resistance. It’s choosing not to scroll when you could be creating. Choosing to protect a sliver of time, however small, and fill it with something that makes you feel more alive. And here’s the truth: the more space you make for your art, the more space it makes for you. For your clarity. For your joy. For the parts of yourself that don’t just want to survive the day, but to feel it deeply.

So begin wherever you are. Begin gently. Begin again, if you’ve stopped. Make room, not just on your calendar, but in your spirit. Because the artist in you isn’t waiting for perfection. Only for you to say yes.

And the more often you say yes, the more your art will stop feeling like a visitor in your life — and start becoming a home.