Creative Corners: Carving Out Space for Your Soul

Harvest Love Journal

For a long time, I collected ideas like wildflowers—tucking them into notebooks, voice notes, the back of receipts. Projects I wanted to try, corners I dreamed of styling, words that wanted to be written. I always told myself later. When things slow down. When the house is clean. When life feels easier to hold.

But the truth is, later never came. And slowly, I started to feel it in my bones—that quiet ache of putting creativity on hold. Of silencing the parts of myself that wanted to build something just for the joy of it. I was still getting through the days, but I wasn’t feeling fruitful in the deeper sense of the word.

“To live as an artist is a way of being in the world. A way of perceiving. A practice of paying attention.”
—Rick Rubin, The Creative Act

It wasn’t a dramatic moment that changed everything. More like a slow realization: that my soul was asking for space. Not just physical space, but emotional, spiritual room to breathe and explore. I didn’t need a studio or a whole day off. I just needed a corner. One little place to say: “This part of life is for me.”

So I created it. A chair by the window. A candle I light when I sit down. A basket of books, notebooks, scissors, string, watercolor pans. It’s not fancy or photo-ready. But it’s mine. And more than anything, it’s permission—to pause, to play, to listen to what’s been whispering inside me all along.

“The world is constantly whispering meaningful clues and inspiring ideas. We just don’t always hear them.”
—Rick Rubin

Now I sit here often. Not always to make something. Sometimes just to feel myself again. I journal. I snip herbs for tea. I sketch out an idea that may never turn into anything—but it doesn’t have to. The point is, I’m showing up. I'm honoring the part of me that wants to make beauty, even when no one’s watching.

If you’ve been feeling that pull—the quiet craving to create—I hope you won’t wait for the perfect moment. You don’t need more time, more space, more talent. You just need a corner. A candle. A whisper of a beginning.

And maybe, like me, you’ll find that this small space becomes a refuge. A reminder that the joy of creating isn’t frivolous—it’s necessary. It’s holy. It’s a way of coming home to yourself.

Journal Prompt:
What creative idea have you been quietly carrying, waiting for “the right time”? What might change if you gave it a corner of your life—starting now?