The Peculiar Flow

My instruction for this season is simple:

Do what makes you happy.

And somehow, that simple instruction made me stop.

What actually makes me happy?

I’m used to asking different questions.

What could make me rich?
What could make me successful?
What could turn into a business?
What could create another opportunity?
What could produce something?

But when Yah said, “Do what makes you happy,” I had to be honest about some of the things I was holding onto.

Because some things have a place in hope… but not necessarily in happiness.

Hope says, Maybe this will become something.

Happiness says, I love doing this even if it never becomes anything.

And I’m learning the difference.

I love content. I’m a natural creator. I find joy in anything that allows my mind to do what my mind naturally does—create, express, imagine, and paint a beautiful world around me.

I’ve been stuck in survival mode for so long that I’m actively learning what parts of my life were survival and what parts were genuine expressions of my true essence.

Like this.

This blog is an expression of my essence.

It’s pressureless expression.

I’m learning that I don’t have to force-feed it to people for it to have a place. I don’t have to convince anyone to read it. I don’t have to turn every thought into a strategy or every expression into a performance.

It can breathe.

It can exist.

It can be found by whoever it was intended for.

And I’d honestly be okay if the target audience was just me.

We know the scripture that says a person’s gift will make room for them, but lately I’ve been thinking about the other side of that:

Have I made room for my gift?

Because for a long time, I think I gave mine a tiny corner of a drawer while the pressure to perform took up the whole house.

Performance had room.

Responsibility had room.

Money had room.

Work had room.

Survival had room.

But joy?

Creativity?

Curiosity?

They had to squeeze themselves into whatever space was left.

And I’m not criticizing myself for that.

I’m a mother. I’m a wife. I have responsibilities. I can’t spend every hour of every day only doing things that make me happy. We’d all be smiling with absolutely no order in the house.

But being in a season where Yah’s instruction is actually:

Do what makes you happy?

Ohhhhh.

This is different.

I’ve watched myself bloom as I’ve rediscovered happiness over these past few years.

I’ve watched childlike excitement return.

I’ve heard myself laugh differently.

I’ve watched creativity come alive in ways I hadn’t experienced before.

And I’ve witnessed healing and wholeness give my creativity permission to return without needing to prove anything.

That has been joyous.

At the beginning of last year, I bought myself a pretty pink guitar.

I was SO excited.

I was going to learn how to play guitar.

I had that kind of excitement you have as a kid on Christmas morning when you finally get the thing you’ve been waiting for. I could already imagine myself learning chords, playing songs, sitting somewhere peacefully with my cute little pink guitar.

Then the days passed.

Then the weeks.

Then the months.

And somehow everything except the thing that made me happy found a place on my schedule.

Businesses.

Work.

Responsibilities.

Ideas that could potentially make money.

Projects.

Plans.

Another opportunity.

Another thing to build.

Another thing to accomplish.

Everything had priority over happiness.

And eventually, my pretty pink guitar became decoration.

It sat in my room collecting dust as the seasons changed.

Every once in a while I’d look over at it and think:

Well… this is apparently how NOT to play the guitar.

But the guitar wasn’t really the problem.

It became evidence.

Evidence of how easily I could make room for what I thought I needed to do while continuously postponing what made me feel alive.

Everything else had priority over joy.

Until now.

Because in this season, I’m being instructed to do what makes me happy.

To make room for the things that light something up inside of me without immediately asking how they can serve me financially.

To create because I love creating.

To write because I love writing.

To learn something simply because learning it excites me.

To allow joy to occupy actual space on my calendar instead of hoping there’s some energy left for it after I’ve finished surviving.

Maybe everything I love doesn’t have to become a business.

Maybe everything I create doesn’t need an audience.

Maybe every gift doesn’t have to immediately produce income to prove that it deserves room in my life.

Some things can simply make me happy.

And maybe that’s enough.

So I’m making room.

For my gifts.

For creativity.

For curiosity.

For childlike excitement.

For the things I kept saying I’d get around to one day.

And yes…

for that pretty pink guitar.

Because I’m excited to see just how beautiful life can become when the primary objective is no longer survival—

but happiness.