What if tending to what nourishes you is not indulgence—but essential?
A few of weeks ago, I was chatting with a friend who is a beautiful artist. I have several of her paintings in my house, and they bring me so much joy. What’s been especially meaningful is witnessing her growth over time: the shifts in perspective, the willingness to explore new possibilities, the way life itself shapes her work.
Surprisingly, she told me she was having a hard time getting into the studio lately.
I assumed it might be a creative block.
But no.
She shared that going into the studio and creating her art felt trivial in light of what is happening in our country and the world today.
Take a pause here. I know I had to.
Her words rolled through my head and landed in my heart in a visceral way—almost as if the earth rumbled, ready to break apart.
Why such a strong reaction? In that moment, all I could think of was what would happen if she stopped doing the things that make her feel alive and give her the strength to not just weather the tough times, but to make a positive impact? Who would she be? Who would I/we be?
I couldn’t let that happen.
“My dear friend,” I said, “especially in times like these, what you do couldn’t be more important for your own well-being and for the joy, inspiration, and thoughtfulness you bring to those who are moved by your work.”
Afterwards I reflected on how often have I opened the front page of a newspaper, read the disturbing headlines, and then quickly scrolled past articles about art, books, fashion, real estate (“Which apartment will they choose?”), and kitchen gadgets (“Which wine opener is best?”) thinking I shouldn’t be here. This is trivial right now.
Many times.
I realized that while I haven’t stopped doing the things that make my life richer and more interesting, I have noticed how I relate to them. I tend to prioritize the “responsible” tasks first, as if the creative, beautiful, or soul-nourishing things must wait their turn. Like the novel on the bedside table, the shared meal, the walk at dusk, the laughter that loosens something tight inside us.
As if they matter less.
And now I ask myself . . .
What if they don’t?
Can I hold the truth that what feels “trivial” is actually the thread that keeps us human, connected, and whole?
What could be more important than that?
If this question stirs something in you, I’ve created a gentle reflection practice called “Reclaiming What Is Essential.”
It’s an invitation to look at what you may have quietly pushed aside and to consider whether it is far from trivial, perhaps even deeply necessary.
You can download the practice here.
I hope it helps you reconnect with what truly sustains you.
In times that feel heavy, may you remember that tending to what is essential in you is a quiet act of courage.