My Creative Rituals

Some people say inspiration is a lightning bolt—a sudden and electrifying jolt that zaps you into creating something dazzling. But for me, creativity feels more like tending a stubborn adobe oven. You have to coax it, nurture it, and maybe whisper a few desperate prayers while you wait for the sparks to ignite. It’s a ritual, really. And like every ritual, there are certain steps I take to keep the fire burning.

Here’s the thing: whether I’m writing about the tangled dynamics of a relationship or curating an exhibit of slightly forlorn desert landscapes (seriously—why do they all look like they need a hug?), I don’t sit around waiting for inspiration to strike. I show up. I shape it. And in doing so, I’ve learned a few creative habits that might just spark that fire in you, too.

1. Coffee First, Always. (No Exceptions.)

Some people journal or meditate to start their day. Me? I commune with the spirit of caffeine. It’s not that I need coffee to function (okay, that’s a lie), but there’s something about the ritual itself that feels grounding. I’ll brew a fresh pot, pour it into my ridiculous collection of mismatched mugs, and savor the first few sips like it’s ambrosia sent straight from the gods.

This is my warm-up lap. My quiet prelude to creativity. Something about holding that warm ceramic cup makes me feel planted, present, and dare I say… artistic? I like to imagine Frida Kahlo cradling her own cafecito before heading to her studio, ready to paint her feelings all over her canvas. (Would she approve of my habit? Honestly, probably not—she strikes me as more of a tequila-at-dawn kind of woman. Respect.)

Your Takeaway: Start your day with a ritual that feels both indulgent and meaningful. Whether it’s coffee, tea, or five minutes tickling your houseplants (no judgment), you need a consistent anchor to center yourself before diving in.

2. Walk It Out: Turn Your Brain into a Desert Playlist

When the ideas feel stuck—like I’m wrestling sentence after awkward sentence onto the page—I take a walk. I live just beyond Santa Fe, where stretches of high desert trails beg for sneakers and curiosity. Sometimes, the hike is a dramatic journey with storm clouds rolling in, and other days it’s just me plodding along under an unforgiving sun while muttering “hydration is important” over and over like a mantra.

But here’s the thing: walking works. It’s my moving meditation. The rhythm of my steps clears out mental clutter, while the wild contradictions of the desert landscape—prickly cacti blooming with outrageous pink flowers, dry arroyos promising some future flash flood—remind me that creativity thrives on tension and contrast. Bonus? I usually come home with a new metaphor or two.

Your Takeaway: Move your body. Take a walk, dance around your kitchen, or just pace your living room like you’re rehearsing for your Oscar speech. Sometimes your brain needs motion to break through the fog.

3. Set the Mood: Yes, It’s a Whole Vibe

Ask any painter or writer—your surroundings matter when you’re trying to create. My workspace is less “Pinterest aesthetic” and more “desert witch thrifted everything,” but it’s essential to me: dried sage bundles hang from the ceiling beams, a string of café lights glows softly in the corner, and there’s always a candle burning that smells like piñon wood and nostalgia.

And music. Let me tell you, the right soundtrack is non-negotiable. When working on big ideas for relationships or love, I cue up something moody and cinematic—think Florence + the Machine or Yo-Yo Ma’s version of Appalachia Waltz. If I need to write with a playful edge? It’s all Fleetwood Mac and a sprinkling of 90s nostalgia for good measure. (No one procrastinates through writer’s block like a girl scream-singing Alanis Morissette. Trust.)

Your Takeaway: Pay attention to your environment. Set up a space that feels inspiring—whether that’s stringing up twinkle lights, lighting a candle, or curating your ultimate productivity playlist. You don’t need a fancy desk or the perfect room; you just need a vibe that feels you.

4. Romanticize the Tiny Wins (Even If It’s a Little Cringe)

Here’s a confession: I’ve made celebrating the smallest victories into an art form. Finished drafting one paragraph? Time for a snack—sometimes an overpriced dark chocolate square, sometimes a bowl of cereal because I’m fancy like that. Found the perfect metaphor for a piece I’m writing? I’ll treat myself to ten minutes of scrolling vintage postcards I’ll likely never buy online.

It might seem silly, but these “celebrations” keep me going. Creativity isn’t a linear process, and progress doesn’t always show up in big, grand gestures. Sometimes it’s about rewarding yourself for showing up—getting words on the page, even if half of them are destined for the trash bin.

Your Takeaway: Celebrate every small step. Did you start working on that poem or doodle in the margins of a notebook? Amazing. Reward yourself, guilt-free. When you romanticize the process, it becomes less about “finishing” and more about enjoying the journey.

5. Find the Drama in the Details

When you grow up surrounded by people ooh-ing and aah-ing over every swirl of paint, you learn to notice—and celebrate—the smallest details. And honestly? This habit carries over to almost everything I do. If I’m writing about relationships, you can bet I’ll latch onto the texture of someone’s laugh or how they drink their coffee as a metaphor for life. Art taught me this: every story, every scene, has a beating heart tucked in its details.

Even when I don’t feel “creative,” I practice observing. I’ll head into town, linger at the farmers’ market, and eavesdrop on tourists taste-testing green versus red chile (spoiler: the answer is always “Christmas”). Creativity likes to sneak up while you're busy paying attention to the world—not abstract inspiration, but the real, messy interplay of people, colors, and contradictions.

Your Takeaway: When the creative well feels dry, lean into curiosity. Notice the “small stuff,” whether it’s how raindrops pool on your windowsill or the way someone’s eyes sparkle when they talk about their favorite show. Every detail is a seed waiting to grow.

6. Trust the Seasons (Even the Drier Ones)

Not every day is a good creative day. Some days, I sit at my desk and feel like all my ideas have gone on a stress vacation without me. I’ve learned to call these my “desert weeks”—those stretches of time when creativity feels as dry and unyielding as a heatwave at high noon. And you know what? That’s okay.

The desert itself has seasons. Rainstorms might be rare, but when they come, they bring everything to life—cacti bloom, arroyos fill, the horizon hums with promise. Creativity is no different. If today feels uninspired, I trust a better one is on its way. It’s about making peace with the rhythms of your process, honoring the ebb as much as you celebrate the flow.

Your Takeaway: Creativity isn’t always about producing. Sometimes it’s about resting, recharging, or even embracing a creative drought so you’re ready when the next flood of ideas arrives.

Conclusion: Your Rituals, Your Story

At its core, creativity isn’t about waiting for the perfect conditions. It’s about showing up for yourself. It’s turning small rituals into fuel for something bigger, finding grit and grace in the dry spells, and trusting that every spark—no matter how faint—has the potential to grow.

So, whether your practice starts with a cup of coffee, a walk through your neighborhood, or a playlist that makes you feel like you’re the protagonist of a coming-of-age indie film, embrace it. Let it ground and guide you. Because at the end of the day, even the most creative lives are built on the simplest of routines—and coffee, of course. Always coffee.