All people have this naturally healthy, joyful, creative instinct beaming in them, even as they try to put together good lives within workaday realities. We all wear the concerned, urgent faces of… parents… and the nervous, earnest face of the incipient artist. We live best when we provide for both sets of needs.

It had been a long-fought war before I finally realized this bit of wisdom for myself, although the conclusion had never been completely, solidly cemented in my head. More:

Fulfillment lies in balance, of course; but many people over-rely on the protectors' priorities. When the vulnerable creative impulse is overlooked, or not guided well, it gets pushed, battered, demanded and twisted into serving a source that depletes it. Sadly, we can end up dancing to every tune except the quiet one that is our own.

I pulled the remaining boxes out of my apartment, unloaded my books, and took out the few garbage bags that had amassed in my dining area and, upon returning, was struck by a novel idea to skip investing in a dining room set and transform it into a mini-studio, noticing it's convenient access to kitchen sink, ventilating front-door, and adjustable track lighting.

Just another advantage to sole occupation of one's living space: creativity is allowed free reign and virtually limitless expression. «

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