Hello Imagination, nice to see you again.

It's Sunday afternoon, and I'm late in posting letter number 5.

Again.

In my defense, I've spent much of the weekend working events. Friday night, Saturday, and now most of Sunday. Somewhere in between, I've managed to sleep, eat, and think approximately one thousand thoughts about what I wanted to write this week.

I have started this letter more times than I'd care to admit. in fact, had i had my act together last night i should have scheduled to publish it this morning.

but i am glad i didn’t, because something happened today that made me smile.

My sister texted me. "Where's the letter?"

And just like that, I had a little moment of joy.

Someone noticed.

Someone was expecting my Sunday morning ramblings, and when they didn't arrive, they actually asked where they were.

Four letters into this little experiment, and someone is looking for number five. (Woo hoo!)

How wonderfully unexpected.

And perhaps a little terrifying, considering my current inability to organize a single coherent thought and get it out on paper/computer by deadline.

this week, my brain has been BUSY.

I've had conversations with friends and family about what The Little Joys of Art might someday become.

And let me tell you, apparently, I've got plans.

Big ones.

Somewhere between these conversations and the increasingly elaborate ideas in my head, I've started imagining an entire creative empire.

An empire!

We're talking art, storytelling, workshops, leadership development, podcasts, and an assortment of other creative ventures that have yet to introduce themselves.

I've even started assigning imaginary jobs to the people in my life.

You know, because an empire needs people to run it.

not a single person. multiple people.

This is all perfectly reasonable behavior for someone who is currently struggling to find enough time to sit down and paint.

And just this morning, I decided that perhaps I should also write a horror movie Or a horror novel. Maybe both.

Because apparently, what my life needs right now is another creative project.

But here's the thing, As ridiculous and scattered as all of this might sound, I'm starting to realize something pretty wonderful is happening.

I think I'm getting my imagination back.

Or maybe that's not quite right.

I don't think it ever really left.

I think it just got buried.

Buried underneath work, responsibility, logical reasoning, adulting, expectations, and the million little things that make up a life. The same things I've been writing about in these letters.

When I started this new chapter of The Little Joys of Art, I thought I was creating a way to reconnect with my artwork.

I wanted to paint more. Make more. Notice more. Give myself permission to explore the creative parts of myself that had slowly been pushed to the side. i thought connecting with people would just help hold me more accountable to the process.

however, something I hadn't anticipated has happened along the way.

Writing these letters has become its own form of making art.

And I don't think I fully understood that until this week.

Because even when I'm not painting, I'm creating.

I'm collecting thoughts. I'm noticing connections. I'm remembering stories. I'm asking questions I haven't asked myself in a long time.

And perhaps most importantly, I'm letting myself imagine things without immediately talking myself out of them.

Somewhere along the way, putting words on a page has started unlocking ideas that have very little to do with the page itself.

It's like I've opened a door that I forgot existed, and now everything on the other side is trying to come through at once.

Which is wonderful.

And chaotic.

And occasionally exhausting.

Speaking of exhausting, I introduced my husband to a new phrase this week.

Motivation deprivation.

I've decided this is what happens when you are overflowing with ideas and genuinely want to make things, but your mind and body have absolutely no intention of making it happen. it physically cannot do it.

You want to paint. You want to write. You want to build your imaginary empire.

But instead, you sit on the couch and become a slug.

A very inspired slug.

A slug with an impressive imaginary business plan, but a slug nonetheless.

That has been me this week.

And I think it's important to acknowledge that having an abundance of creativity doesn't automatically mean having the energy to act on it.

Those are two very different things.

On Wednesday, I attended a leadership conference that I almost talked myself out of going to.

I had too much work to do. Too many emails. Too many things demanding my attention.

But I went.

And I'm glad I did.

One of the things that struck me most wasn't necessarily a specific lesson about leadership.

It was seeing people share meaningful ideas through research, storytelling, music, and art.

And sitting there, watching people genuinely respond to that kind of experience, I had a thought.

I could do that.

Not tomorrow.

Not because I've suddenly figured out how to make my entire imaginary empire a reality.

But someday, I could see myself standing in front of a room, combining everything I've learned in my experience about leadership with my love of art and storytelling.

And for the first time, that idea didn't feel quite so imaginary.

It felt possible.

One of the phrases that stayed with me from the conference was "Courage over comfort."

We talked about it in the context of leadership. Having difficult conversations. Making the right decisions rather than the easy ones. Challenging things that need to change.

But naturally, I started thinking about what it meant in my own life, Because how often do I avoid doing something simply because I'm afraid it might not work?

How many ideas have I kept safely tucked away because as long as they're just ideas, nobody can tell me they aren't any good?

How often do I convince myself I'm not ready when, really, I'm just uncomfortable with the possibility of failing?

And I wonder how many of us do that.

We wait until we have enough time.

Enough confidence.

Enough experience.

Enough certainty that everything will turn out the way we hope.

And in the meantime, the things we dream about remain dreams.

Now, I also believe there's a difference between avoiding something out of fear and simply being too damn tired to do it. Not every quiet evening needs to become an opportunity for personal growth.

Sometimes the slug needs to slug.

But I'm beginning to understand that I don't have to figure out every part of this journey before I start taking it.

Maybe I don't need to know exactly what The Little Joys of Art is going to become.

Maybe I don't need to choose between being an artist, a writer, a storyteller, or whatever else my imagination dreams up next (apparently a screenwriter if you talk to morning version joy).

Maybe they can all exist together. maybe that's the point.

For a long time, I thought reconnecting with my creativity meant finding my way back to my paintbrushes, And while I still desperately want more time in my studio, I'm discovering that creativity doesn't always return in the form we expect.

Sometimes it returns as a story. Sometimes as an idea that sounds completely ridiculous when you say it out loud. Sometimes as a conversation with someone you love. And sometimes as a Sunday afternoon letter that you're writing several hours later than you intended.

I haven't built an empire this week.

I haven't launched a podcast.

I haven't written my horror movie, but I have started a detailed story board.

And I certainly haven't spent nearly enough time painting.

But I've imagined things.

I've said some of those things out loud.

I've started to believe that some of them might actually happen.

And I've written another letter, and in doing so I'm realizing that these letters aren't just a way to tell you about my creative journey.

They've become part of how I'm finding my way back to it.

And the most delightful part?

Someone noticed when one was missing. Thanks, jill!

So here's to the big ideas, the unfinished projects, the imaginary empires, and the very inspired slugs among us.

Here's to choosing courage when fear is holding us back, and giving ourselves permission to rest when life is simply asking too much.

And here's to discovering that sometimes, the little thing you start doing to find your way back to yourself ends up opening a door you didn't even know you were looking for.

A little question before you go...

Have you ever started doing something for one reason, only to discover it was giving you something entirely different?

I'd love to hear about it. Truly. Because one of the unexpected joys of writing these letters has been realizing how much I enjoy the conversations they start.

So, have something you want to share, hit reply to the email or head to the contact page and let me know!

Until next Sunday (hopefully a little earlier),

Joy