Moving as a creative practice
the one where I tell you that I talk to my home
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“Each of us is an artist of our days; the greater our integrity and awareness, the more original and creative our time will become.”
― John O'Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings
Around here, I talk about life as a creative practice.
Whenever I share this phrase in conversation, there’s usually either a blank stare or squint of non-resonance OR a felt-sense understanding and instant widening of the eyes that say ‘yes’.
In general, I’ve found that the words creative or creativity bring instant shared interest… or they’re muddy, distant waters and I might as well have brought up money or mortality.
To share what I mean in literal terms, I thought I’d zoom in to a relevant example in my own life right now: moving (dun dun dunnn).
I've moved about a dozen times in the last several years. Many of these moves were deeply unpleasant and steeped in uncertainty (like, can we find a place to live in Germany?).
All of these moves have been under financial constraint (to put it lightly), with a partner, and two cats. As moves go, each had their fair share of laughing and crying, and that exhausted mix of both.
With this move, I want to share a glimpse into the everyday landscape of my life to demonstrate how creative living is a central conceptual framework to how I approach life.
Important: This move is a stable move. What I share will apply differently to more intense, potentially unstable contexts (e.g. reestablishing after a breakup, moving in with family or friends or strangers, leaving home for the first time, moving to a new region or country alone, or needing to get out of a situation fast, etc.).
More than anything, what I hope to offer by giving you a picture of how I’m approaching this move is a question to live into:
How can you get curious about creating small actions, choices, and conditions that are accessible to you in the circumstances as they are in order to support yourself and your life in major ways?
That is: making small choices imbued with creativity that foster an overall feeling of connection, stability, openness, ease, and fulfillment in yourself and your life.
(Add in whatever desired energetic states and virtues you want to live into)
Before going any further, see what it’s like to let that question roll around in your brain. This question is central to what I mean when I say life as a creative practice, and Pivoting Toward Wholeness is all about putting it into practice.
Ok let’s skip the first part: finding a new place. This is the part that throws me into existential panic. My method is to enter into a trance-like state and become fully consumed with daily searching. Once I find Dream Option #1, I then become consumed by the possibility of living there (imagining being in the space, appreciating the sunlight and the walls) while simultaneously detaching from the need for it to be that specific place in case things don’t work out. In other words: high engagement, low attachment.
So, let’s start with packing.
First I’ll share what I did with this move and then some pathways for experimentation and exploration.
When you pack, you deserve a special little drink in a special little cup.
I don’t make the rules!
This is an opportunity to create a beautiful moment of nourishment and to try something new or treat yourself to a standard favorite.
When I kicked off the packing process this time around, I made myself a shaken drink of coffee, ice, coconut milk, honey, and a dash of cayenne served in a favorite glass. This was one of my go-to drinks about eight years ago, so it’s also a drink of memories.
Consider: Maybe something in a fun color like Butterfly Pea Powder or turmeric tea in a glass of a contrasting color? Maybe a childhood comfort like hot cocoa with marshmallows or a glass of apple juice?
Maybe it looks like walking to a nearby cafe and ordering your favorite drink to mark the moment. Maybe you start your packing in the evening with something bubbly or glamorous.
Packing is an opportunity for singing and dancing in disguise.
I love to play what I call personal anthems when I pack and sometimes when I get the urge to empty out closets and drawers and do a spontaneous deep clean (pssst we’ll also talk more about personal anthems in Pivoting Toward Wholeness, jus sayin). These are songs that you can listen to a thousand times over and they just make you feel ALIVE. Sorry, I’m going to share this in a tedious way instead of a playlist since I don’t use Spotify. Some of these songs are: This is The Day by The The, Bitch by Meredith Brookes, One Girl Revolution by Superchick (a la Legally Blonde), Life is Life by Opus, Renegade by Styx, Rich Girl by Hall & Oates…
Other music that has been on repeat: My Boo by Ghost Town DJ, Belle and Sebastian, Nobody Knows by Pastor T.L. Barrett, Morcheeba, and Dust in the Gold Sack by Swearin'. I associate some songs with particular cities, years, or specific places like a friend’s home or roof or backyard. This last one is a city-based song for me, and so it’s been special to revisit.
Consider: If you feel comfortable doing so, sing along to songs *loudly* as you pack. Put them on repeat. Make up songs. Put on a video and practice yodeling as you fold clothes (sorry, neighbors).
Sing mantras. Sing your wishes. Sing how you want to feel!!
The point is to infuse the experience with what you desire through creative expression. Doing something mundane is also an opportunity to delight in your own presence. Plus, singing is a way to give your parasympathetic nervous system some love during what can be a disorienting process.
I’d love to hear any song or album recommendations you have.
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🌹 Please share this on social media or with a friend who is moving. 🌹
Can’t forget scent!
The thing I consider with scents are the quality of ingredients and how they are sourced. I steer clear of sacred white sage, too much incense, and paraffin candles with synthetic scents. During packing, we’ve been burning resins and the air shifts in a way that I’ve never experienced with incense.
Right when we arrive in a space, I do some scent-based rituals (more on that below).
Taping up the final boxes
Moving is a time when I ask myself a lot of questions around identity.
Beyond objects, what beliefs and ideas and doubts do I want to leave behind?
What am I taking with me into this new chapter?
Who do I want to be?
In what areas do I want to give extra attention?
A new move is like January 1st, loaded with promises. And like every new year, we bring our practiced habits and tendencies into it.
I hope that we can all feel free from the promises that we made to ourselves and didn’t hold up for whatever reason (sometimes reflecting takes the place of forgiving).
I hope that you can show up asking what’s here and trust that you will write it down or dance it out or hold it tenderly and, in whatever time it takes to do your thing, find the words for it. I hope the same for myself in returning to writing this morning.
How we meet old patterns in new spaces is a big deal.
Consider: … the questions above. These can be especially meaningful to talk through with a friend. If packing and moving makes you into a panicking puddle of stress, see if you have a friend or two that would be willing to hangout and help with packing (plus show-and-tells with cherished objects are so much fun).
Homes do a lot of holding
Before I leave a space, I thank the home that gave me security and solace.
I don't really hold animist beliefs (simply because I haven’t thought or read about it enough). And/but, I have always felt and loved the anima of dwellings.
I still think about my childhood home all the time and how I remember staring at the walls when I was younger and feeling into a clear, resounding benevolence.
Still, I daydream about the people who occupied homes before me: coming in the door late at night, staring at the ceiling in bed dreading another day, making soup on the first chilly day of the season. I think about how walls have witnessed endless jokes and kisses.
The moment that is hardest for me is the last moment of looking through the door at a space that was at one time the backdrop of everyday and now an imprint that no one else will fully know. As Virginia Woolf wrote, “vanishing even as she looked”. This quiet moment is the hardest.
Salt and smoke
Right before we unload the truck, I take a couple minutes to do special carings for the home and to ritualize this transition. If you’re reading this at the time of publishing, I am doing these things right now!
Before I go any further, here’s where things get slightly witchy.
First, doorway as threshold: Right foot first, I inhale deeply every mixed emotion and bubbling ounce of energy and step in, with an exhale of arrival to say hello to the new space.
I would love to start with sweeping with a new broom, but I’m not buying a new one this time. If I did, I’d start by sweeping everything out the door! In doing this, I imagine ‘waking up the floor’ to say hello to the new space.
Instead, I will go to the room that is most toward the back of the house and do smoke cleansing counterclockwise with the windows open, sweeping out toward the windows. As I do this, I thank all previous caretakers and all that the home has held. The way I approach this isn’t so much to banish anything, but to cleanse the nonphysical space in the same way that we would mop or vacuum.
I ask that the home may be blessed. I literally talk to the home and touch the walls as you might touch a tree.
Before arriving, I’ll have a flower and herb blend that I’ll put on the stove as a simmer pot for about 10 minutes—so the home smells like roses and cinnamon—and then I set it aside to cool off. Each herb is selected on the themes of protection and prosperity.
Consider: Whether you are moving or totally settled into wherever you live, do you use rituals to bless the space? The way I approach home magic is through simplicity and resourcefulness. It might look like lighting a candle, ringing a bell, or playing mantras to bless a room. You might salt the perimeter, cleanse with smoke, or put on a simmer pot with curated herbs. No one has to know about these things—on moving day, I’m not sharing any of this with my friends.
Making unloading less miserable
We enlist friends and loved ones to help with all the heavy lifting and camaraderie. After doing my little rituals above, I’ll quickly whip up some ice cold lemonade. I have a woven laundry basket ready with three pitchers, sugar, a bag of lemon, and a cutting board, knife, cups, and napkins packed. As I do this, my partner will set up the music system so that we can have a curated playlist going.
By the time friends arrive, there are drinks, music, and the place smells really good. I do all of this wanting my friends to feel the appreciation that I have for them.
When all is said and done, my partner and I will drink the simmered tea to seal the day and savor the gift of change.
More thoughts on moving as a creative practice…
During this time, I’m documenting the process and emotional landscape with writing, photos, and videos. None of this has taken very much time, it’s just meant that I pause here and there to record my noticings. I also think about where I can add in small creative gestures for everyone involved—we’re selling furniture to the next tenants who are moving into this space, and I’m giving them pothos cuttings as a thank you and as a way of celebrating their move, too.
Consider: Make a vlog that documents your move, or even video diaries for your eyes only. Write a poem a day or a haiku that captures the whole experience in brevity. Gather passages that honor endings and speak to new beginnings. Make a playlist for your new home. Buy yourself a new plant. Remember to keep asking yourself, How can I get curious about creating small actions, choices, and conditions that feel accessible in order to support myself and my life in major ways?
Do you have home rituals??
Did something I share spark inspiration or stir insight for you?
I would love to hear from you below.
Thank you for reading my words. I hope that this paints a picture of what I mean when I talk about life as a creative practice. This is how I approach life.
There is so much creative potential in the everyday when we approach reality as it is with curiosity and openness.
Wish me luck! xx
Maggy
If you read this far, I highly encourage you to get on the waitlist for Pivoting Toward Wholeness, a six week course on exactly this: the creative potential within the everyday. By joining the waitlist, you get to take advantage of the pre-sale price.
Besides the pre-sale being the lowest rate available, I've got gifts galore for those who step in early. See you there?
Best of luck with this move, Maggy! I'm finding your thoughts so inspiring and helpful. Moving has been a stressful experience for me most of the time, and yet I fantasise about moving all the time, the potential of a fresh start and all that. I love giving other people a loaf of fresh bread and a small pouch of salt when they move in, this is an ancient ritual I learned from my family. I also love going back into the empty space of any place I'm moving out off and giving it a final loving clean.