
Happy Happy Saturday Posse Party, all! When browsing through our community blog posts, I came across this one by Tracy Swartz and fell in love. Tracy is a vibrant bubble of color and creativity within the community. I know that her beauty and energy radiates of the page here as well. -- Megan Monique
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I was talking with a client earlier this week and she told me that she used to have a garden outside that made her incredibly happy. She would spend her free time tending to the garden, loving the garden, and even won awards for its striking beauty. Usually by this time of year, the garden is in full swing and she is adding the finishing touches of decorative lights so she can also enjoy its beauty at night. She shared fond memories of her family sitting on the porch together and admiring the garden while enjoying the sweet summer air, a glass of wine, and each other.
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Sometimes, I am drawn to drawing, welcomed to writing. It's as if I can't help it — I am being called to get that stuff out that's in me, or coming through me.
This feels like inspiration.
Other times, I'm facing creative expression like it's a must. It's my duty. I HAVE to do it because I made a pact with myself. Or else!
This feels like discipline.

In my last post, I wrote about the power of creating for its own sake and for our own selves, even if what we create isn’t “good” as defined by conventional standards. Here I want to talk about something that may seem like a paradox but isn’t: the power of not creating, of taking in instead of putting out.
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Before I became a mother, people were always trying to warn me about how much my life was going to change. In particular, they loved to tell me how they (and, by extension, I) would never again have enough time. “Whether I’m at home or at work, I feel like I never have enough time for anyone,” they’d say. “Never mind finding the time to clean the bathroom.” And time for themselves? “Forget it. I haven’t had time to read a novel since my oldest was born. Ten years ago.”
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I forgot how much I liked to sing until my son was born. I sang as a teenager, and although I never had soloist potential, I held my own in the audition-only chorus and had the lead in the school musical. But when I started college and stopped singing, something happened that was akin to a former athlete losing her muscle tone: I completely lost my sense of pitch, and with it my confidence and my willingness to sing, even in the shower.
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When we dream big, sometimes we tend to want to engage big, desiring to go from a blank canvas to a finished product in one sitting.
I recall many times as a designer, jumping into a project, arranging shapes and colors and type on the computer, getting lost in the process. I wanted so badly to immediately manifest a thing of beauty, a perfect harmony of elements in a two-dimensional world.
I wouldn't rest because my desire was so strong.
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Years ago I was an elementary school teacher. The first year I taught Kindergarten, I worked with a woman who told me on a daily basis how creative I was. I didn’t really believe her.
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