Why Creative Rituals Matter
I might not be painting my masterpiece in a candlelit French studio or penning the next great American novel in a Brooklyn brownstone, but I’ve spent enough time in Boulder coffee shops and at trailheads to know that creativity doesn’t just "happen." It’s not some magical lightning bolt that strikes you while you stare off into the middle distance (though wouldn’t that be nice?). Creativity, at least for me, is a fire that you have to tend. And my creative rituals? They’re the oxygen feeding the flame.
Let’s talk about what fuels the spark—and what that has to do with your relationships, your personal growth, and the occasional bag of gummy bears.
Step 1: Movement—The Mental Defrost Button
When I’m feeling creatively blocked, my first instinct is to get moving. Growing up in Boulder, hiking wasn’t just a pastime; it was practically a family religion. My parents believed that the answers to life’s biggest questions could be found in the rhythm of your boots against dirt. (This was also their way of deflecting when teenage me asked them uncomfortable questions like, “What happens if love fades?” They’d respond, “Let’s pack snacks and discuss this on the trail.”)
Today, I still lean on those mountain walks to unstick ideas. There’s something about cresting a ridge and watching the landscape flatten out into endless possibility that reminds me of the creative process itself. When you’re stuck, you just have to keep climbing—metaphorically or literally. If you’re not near a mountain, don’t worry. A brisk walk, a sweaty dance to some Lumineers on repeat, or even pacing your kitchen while snacking on something shamefully processed (hi, gummy bears) can do wonders.
Pro tip for everyone stuck in their creative or emotional life: When you’re spinning your wheels, your brain doesn’t need more thinking—it needs oxygen. Movement clears the fog, lets new ideas surface, and gives you a chance to reconnect not just with yourself but with the larger world too. Bonus: It gives you something cute to talk about during a first date. (“I once thought up a whole essay while walking through the farmer’s market.” Swoon.)
Step 2: The Perfect Cup & Purpose-Built Mornings
I read somewhere that Albert Einstein had his best ideas while nursing a cup of tea. Now, I don’t have a Nobel Prize to my name (yet), but I will sing the praises of a meticulously crafted morning beverage for unlocking the creative floodgates. For me, it’s all about the coffee—black, strong enough to jolt me back to reality, and preferably brewed while The Shins play softly in the background.
More than the caffeine zap, though, it’s the ritual of it. Grinding beans, heating water, waiting for the drip—it’s meditative and puts me in the headspace to tackle the blank page. Rituals are about creating the conditions for creativity to show up. Relationships thrive on rituals, too: It’s no coincidence that many of my best conversations happen—guess where?—over coffee.
If you’re looking to unlock your own morning momentum, I highly recommend carving out 10-15 minutes to treat yourself to ceremony. Tea, coffee, or even a carefully peeled orange—it doesn’t matter. Starting your day with small, purposeful intention rewires your brain to look for meaning and patterns in the rest of your day, too. (And for the record, I’m not above repeating this with a craft brew at 5 p.m. if inspiration really needs coaxing.)
Step 3: Disconnect to Reconnect
I know, I know: every writer on the internet these days says, “Put down your phone!” But hear me out on this one. Creativity, like meaningful connection, takes presence. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from years spent watching sunsets at Chautauqua Park, it’s that you can’t really immerse yourself in a creative flow—or a moment with someone else—while simultaneously scrolling Instagram.
I once tried writing an essay while answering texts. The result sounded like...well, like someone on their third latte, mid-text break-up. Not inspiring. Creativity thrives on space, silence, and the discomfort of sitting with your ideas long enough to hear what they’re really trying to say. It’s why I dedicate intentional no-scroll time to write, think, or even just daydream. (Seriously, daydreaming is underrated—we all need to stare at clouds more.)
In relationships, this applies too. My partner and I have a no-screen policy during dinner, a rule that frustrates every UberEats driver because we now have to answer the door with flour-dusted hands. But it’s worth it. Disconnect to reconnect—it works for your art and your heart.
Step 4: The Power of Play
Remember when you were a kid and played with reckless abandon? No one ever judged whether the fort you built out of couch cushions qualified as “good art.” As adults, we lose this sense of whimsy, and it’s a shame because creativity isn’t just about producing; it’s about exploring.
For me, play often means doing something that opens up entirely new creative channels—like sketching little cartoons in the margins of my notepad or noodling on a guitar I don’t know how to play. Sometimes it’s absurd, like narrating my day out loud like I’m a podcast host (“Watch now, as Miles contemplates the literary merit of making nachos for dinner…”). But these activities loosen the grip of my serious adult brain and let me approach my work—and even my relationships—with a playful, curious spirit.
Here’s a creative challenge: Try doing something completely silly and purposeless for 10 minutes—it could be anything, from doodling to building a LEGO masterpiece to attempting a TikTok dance in the privacy of your home. Spoiler alert: It doesn’t matter if you’re good. Creativity is about process, not product.
Step 5: Trust the Quiet Periods
Can I be honest? Not every day is a fountain of inspiration. There are days I stare at my notebook and have literally nothing to say except “Why did I ever try being a writer?” (Fun fact: The same sentiment has crossed my mind after unsuccessful attempts to bake sourdough.)
Here’s what I’ve learned after years of trying to force the muse to show up: Creativity—and relationships—both have their fallow periods. But just like a snowed-over trail in winter, those quiet, dormant times are necessary. They make the spring bloom possible. On these days, I give myself grace to put the notebook away, maybe take another walk, or just...exist. And inevitably, when I’ve had time to refill the creative or emotional well, the words will come rushing back.
It’s the same in love, isn’t it? Sometimes your partner (or your heart) feels distant. But that’s no call for alarm—just like creativity, love thrives when we give it space and trust.
Final Thoughts: Tend the Fire
Whether you’re pushing through writer’s block, trying to reignite the spark in your relationship, or just figuring out who you are in this increasingly chaotic world—we all need our rituals. We need the walks, the coffee corners, the playful self-indulgence, and the deep breaths in sticky moments of self-doubt.
Building a creative life (or a romantic one) isn’t about grand gestures. It’s about showing up every day for the little things that keep the fire alive. Some days you’ll blaze bright; others, you’ll flicker. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned hiking through this wild, messy life, it’s that the view from the top is always worth the climb.
So grab your coffee or your hiking boots, and start where you are. The spark is waiting.
