Anna and I inadvertently picked up the thread I started last week about when it’s time to let go of an idea. And talking it through with her I realised that yes, there’s a natural shift happening that maybe had been happening for a while – but I just wasn’t ready to let go.

Or maybe I wasn’t ready to acknowledge that the idea had changed on its own and I needed to catch up.

But now, it’s time to move forward.

What to do when an idea changes course

I should’ve clocked that something was up when I started my part-time job in late June. The whole point of it was to free up some time for me to work on Spiral Up and finally give it the attention it deserved. I had already dedicated the Easter long weekend back in April to it by sequestering myself away in a hotel for 3 nights and diving deep, so this felt like the next natural step.

But almost immediately I picked up extra freelance work and prioritised that over my own creative projects. Le sigh.

I don’t begrudge that work. In fact, I needed it. And in hindsight – that beautiful, magical beast – it began what I’m now coming to understand as the Great Creative Transit of 2026.

“Why don’t you write a memoir?”

Anna’s simple question that unlocked a SLEW of repressed memories:

• My favourite writers are memoirists (hello Joan Dideon, Dani Shapiro, Cheryl Strayed, Lena Dunham)

• I almost wrote a memoir for my PhD, and even

• The feedback from my PhD artist’s book said it read like a narrative non-fiction memoir (a compliment, mind you!).

The Spiral Up method I’ve developed is the blueprint for my creative life. It’s in and through everything I do – so what if that’s enough? What if that’s what it is and I don’t need to monetise it? What if it’s the thing I’ve been gripping so tightly to that’s been keeping me stuck?

When I said that out loud last night I visibly sighed with relief. I felt it. And I’ve been saying, for a while now, that I just want to make art about Spiral Up (not teach it to people). So maybe, potentially, finally, this is my chance?

A shift in identity

I’ve been having a specific conversation with people in my inner circle lately about how powerful identity is.

When I left my last full-time creative agency job back in 2019, I wanted to run my own business – so I became a “creative small business owner”.

Then, in 2022, when I wanted to work and travel, I became a “digital nomad”.

So now, in 2026, who I am going to be in this next chapter? A “writer who makes Art”? A “memoirist”? My journal will be busy this week as I investigate 🔬

What I’m excited about

There’s something pulse quickening about standing at the door of a new creative adventure. Tapping into a new genre, learning its rules (to break them), and stretching yourself to see how far you can go – HEAVEN.

But what I’m most excited about is this:

• Letting my creative urge take over and explore what the story could be

• Taking the pressure of it having to make money because this is something I am doing for the love of it

• Getting back on paper to experiment with text-based art and translate some of the core messages of Spiral Up into prints and, wait for it, MERCH 😍

• Rejigging my schedule to make room for whatever is trying to come through.

As Anna says, the first step is admitting YOU ARE AN ARTIST

One thing I love about Anna is how evangelical she is about making Art: if you want to make art, you are an artist. You don’t dabble, it’s not just a hobby, and it’s important that you claim that identity.

So I ask you: where are you selling your creative self short by not owning who you really are?

Creatively yours,

Dr Maz xoxo

How do you know when it’s time to let go?

If we’re meeting for the first time, I’m Dr Marion Piper, creativity coach and senior copywriter (among other things). I’ve been at this creative life for a while now – I turned 41 back in early August – and STILL, to this day, am befuddled by it all. Which probably explains why I can’t stop thinking, talking, and writing about it.

I journaled on that juicy question this week and a few thoughts popped up, namely:

1. It’s hard to let go of something familiar without anything to grab onto (picture the trapeze artist mid-swing, arms outstretched, who can’t let go or they’ll fall).

2. Letting go isn’t a one time thing (a fact I learned from Andie McPhee on Dawson’s Creek). It’s something you have to do every single day, over and over.

3. Before even asking the question, it might be better to ask what you’re gripping so tightly to and why.

But anyway, back to what I think I should let go of…

My PhD was both a thesis and an artist’s book exploring what a journey of post-traumatic growth could look and feel like. It has poetry, prose, photography, illustration, and even a digital component with a piece of video art. It was the culmination of all my interests laid bare in a raw, personal story.

After I finished it, I fell apart. Like, properly, for 6 months. I couldn’t do shit. In hindsight it was likely ADHD burnout (shout out to all my neurospicy babes), but at the time I felt like a failure. Why?

I couldn’t get a post-doc fellowship. I couldn’t find a job. I had nothing in the tank.

That’s when I stumbled into a copywriting career, despite having zero formal training other than a few weeks of lecture notes from my Masters program in writing.

Fast forward to 2020, during COVID lockdowns, and I started to get the itch to revisit the work. I started talking more about creativity and post-traumatic growth on Instagram and, to my surprise, it was resonating. It led to a CreativeMornings talk, a swag of podcast appearances, and even a side quest into becoming a creativity coach.

But, for some reason, I could never birth the work into something that people would buy.

I tried creating a course – nope. I ran workshops – they were okay. I started this Substack – it’s not bad. Heck, I even reverse engineered my PhD creative work into a trauma-informed creative process… which lots of people tell me is needed, but no one wants to pay for me to share it.

Now, don’t get me wrong, money isn’t everything. I have and will continue to do this work for free because I love and believe in it. But I don’t want to be a copywriter for the rest of my life: I want to make a living off my own IP. I want to wake up every day and dedicate my life to creativity. Which, arguably, I AM doing, but too much of my energy goes to other people’s dreams. So why am I do afraid to commit to my own?

And right there is the actual million dollar question.

Why choosing your own creativity is the hardest choice to make

There’s no certainty that if you create something it will succeed. Just as there’s no certainty that if you go after any goal you’ll get it. But our silly little brains want us to be safe and The Unknown isn’t – it belongs to the realm of uncertainty and possibility, not to familiarity and comfort.

Now here’s where it gets interesting.

Every 👏🏼 Single 👏🏼 Time 👏🏼 I’ve chosen my own creative pursuits – from concrete poetry to video installation art to public speaking – magical fucking things have happened. Crazy shit has also happened when I’ve been employed and building other people’s dreams too, but the feeling of it has always felt so much less satisfying or true.

Much like letting go, choosing your own creativity is something you MUST do over and over, every single day, for as long as you want to pursue it. You can take breaks, sure, but I’m now understanding that without that level of dogged commitment and focus, the world will go out of its way to distract you.

Answer this honestly: what’s most important to you? Aside from the things you need to survive – water, air, food, love, etc – what’s the one thing you couldn’t live without?

For me, that’s creativity. Self-expression. Meaning making. If I didn’t have those things, I would crumble in the most devastating way. And if I look back across my life, the moments where I HAVE crumbled were the moments when I lost touch with those vital ingredients.

So, will you join me in recommitting to creativity?

Repeat after me:

• I’m willing and able to completely rearrange my life to bring my creative work to life.

• I’m not letting time, money, or other people’s opinions of what I’m about to do stop me from doing it.

• I promise to show up as often as I humanly can for my Art.

• I’ll take any and all measures to make sure that I don’t die with this Art still inside of me.

✨ AND SO IT IS ✨

Creatively yours,

Dr Maz xoxo

I need to get something off my chest so please, bear with me.

Back in July, I was on a roll. I’d consistently posted every week on here… until I didn’t. And I couldn’t figure out why because I was SO plugged into what I wanted to say.

Then it dawned on me: I’d locked myself into a format that was suffocating my creativity, not giving it room to breathe. I’d focused so intently on the form that I’d neglected the self-expression.

I see Creatives online all the time who rigidly stick to a ‘content plan’ that keeps their message in a death grip. When you’re following trends and performance metrics, it’s akin to putting a bird in a cage and demanding it fly away.

‘10 steps to X’.

‘3 ways to Y’.

‘I don’t know who needs to hear this, but…’.

This homogeneity hinges on one thing: there’s no depth or personal story. When everyone’s spouting platitudes and demanding other artists to create a certain way (or worse, to “just make Art”), no one learns anything. And we lose our most precious creative resource in the process: our attention.

But this week, I had a revelation.

The moment I committed to a creative life

In the middle of a year long backpacking trip through South, Central and North America in 2009, I found myself standing on bleach white sand on a beach in Brazil. Florianópolis, to be exact.

I was 24. I graduated from Art school with honours a year prior, and had spent the last year working full-time in retail at Cotton On clothing. I’d been sent to Hong Kong to launch the brand there, won numerous sales awards, and was so deeply unfulfilled that I knew I was hiding.

And as palm trees gently swayed behind me, warm ocean water lapping at my feet, I turned to my friend Vanessa and announced, “I’m going to be a writer.”

And that was it.

When I got back from my trip some 6 months later, I enrolled in a Masters of Arts (Writing) and that shunted me into a creative life. I knew I was always destined for it, but I had to be the one to DECIDE.

So that brings us back to structure

I was so enamoured with my ‘creative self-inquiry’ questions. That particular phrase sounded smart and unique – just the kind of intellectual wank someone with a PhD would write about.

But there’s a reason I’ve never worked in corporate or pursued an academic career: yep, you guessed it, too much structure. Yet here I was, imposing a structure on myself because I’d somehow bought into the belief that consistency can only be attained through structure.

But consistency, in a creative context, doesn’t translate to “all the time”. And structure doesn’t stand for a concrete process. It’s not that simple.

Together, consistency builds the muscle of expression, while structure creates the cocoon where it can safely stretch.

Have you decided to live a creative life?

It might not have been on beach in Brazil, but I bet you’ve had that moment. The one where the chaos and noise of the world fades away and all you can hear is that voice, beckoning you to carve your own path.

Now, more than ever, that’s what we are being called to do.

And I can’t help but get excited by that.

Creatively yours,

Dr Maz xoxo

As much as the online gurus would have you believe, you can’t ‘optimise’ creativity. In fact, you can’t even control or wield it either. Why? Because it’s such an innately human trait that by its very nature resists sterilisation.

Yet, at times, it can feel completely foreign to us after a life altering event. And it’s this foreignness that I find so captivating that it led me to today’s question.

Creative Self-Inquiry

“Why did my desire to make art…”

Sitting with a creative block after trauma can feel excruciating, especially if you identify as a creative or artistic person. The desire to make things – that used to bring you so much joy – has now been replaced by a void. Or worse, searing pain that won’t let up.

Desire is a funny thing. Its urgency can make you believe that it won’t ever come back if you don’t act on it. Scarcity, not abundance, dwells below its panicked message: create or perish. But that’s not actually the truth.

Your yearning to make things isn’t separate from you – it IS you. Coded into every cell in your body, in every beat of your heart. So asking ‘why’ your desire is gone can’t give you the answer you’re looking for. But looking for ways to reconnect with the parts of you that trauma severed, just might.

“…completely vanish…”

When trauma strikes, it often initially takes more than it gives. It rips open parts of us that we thought were solid, pulls the rug out from under us, and flips any long held perspective on its head. Our ability to connect the dots in new and interesting ways to make stuff often goes along with it.

However, I don’t see that as a bad thing. It’s scary, sure. Devastating even. As an ending, it brings so much loss and grief, yet what you don’t yet realise (because you’re in it) is that there’s a brand new beginning on the other side of it, waiting to emerge. And I have an interesting piece of research to share here.

In a recent 2026 study, researchers note that creativity is fundamentally an ‘adaptive response’, much like a fractured bone growing stronger as it heals. So if it feels like your creativity has abandoned you after trauma, it might be your brain working away in the background trying to transform your pain into something new. Isn’t that fucking wild?!

“…after my trauma?”

Trauma has this nasty habit of blocking our brains from translating experiences into words. This creates that foggy, frozen feeling. So when trauma locks your mind, you can’t always think your way back to creativity. But how?

Jude Worters’ 2025 research from RMIT University gives us an option. Healing a fragmented identity – trauma can fracture who we are – calls for an ‘embodied approach’. This looks like letting your hands play with physical textures and material forms to reveal and transform the trauma your brain is trying to block.

You’ve likely heard the phrase ‘get out of your head and into your body’ – that’s one way to gently dissolve a creative block after trauma. But the caveat is to make it low stakes. My go-to play modes: colouring in books, knitting, cooking, pottery, and collage. Small, easy, low cost – because that’s likely all your brain will be capable of.

There’s a sweet spot when it comes to overcoming a creative block after trauma

A little bit of adversity can push your mind to think outside the box to survive. But when trauma accumulates and crosses a certain threshold, it overloads your brain, causing your creativity to completely shut down. This is normal.

So if you’re overloaded right now, don’t try and force yourself to create. Get the right kind of support (ie. professional help) to pull yourself back from that threshold. Once you’re out of the danger zone, trust your brain – it wants to turn your pain into something new, but it can’t do that if you opt for control over calmness.

Creatively yours,

Dr Maz xoxo

PS: If you’re currently frozen solid with a creative block, hit reply and let me know. What does it feel like? What are you trying to create? Has anything you’ve been doing helping? Or is there something that makes it worse? Asking for a ‘friend’ lol.

I didn’t choose that experience and I certainly didn’t go willingly into sharing it in such a high stakes environment. But I also felt like I couldn’t do anything else. It’s why I’ve always struggled to hold down a “real job” or finish any other creative idea I’ve ever had.

In my work as a writer for Hello Leaders recently, I’ve been speaking to some incredible people with deep lived experience that shapes their work. And I’ve asked almost every one of them this question because what calls us to share is at the root of why creativity is so vital.

Creative Self-Inquiry

“Why should I…”

You might be thinking: I’m not that special and everyone goes through this stuff. That may be true, but no one is you. No one else has your particular lens, memory, motivation, or ambitions. That’s why it’s never been more important to express yourself.

What that looks like doesn’t have to fit a formula, match an algorithm, or even be anything ‘good’. Share your obsessions, the quotes you can’t forget. The songs that destroy you, the food that makes you forget who you are. Those are the details that make a life and the sparks for connection that will draw people closer.

Your pain, grief, and loss are part of that, too. How? They’re proof that you loved, that you let things in, and that you are capable of living fully. The more you hide your difficult or complicated stories, the further you’ll stray from your creativity. That’s not a fact, but it’s the reality I’ve faced, time and time again, when I end up performing myself in the world, instead of just being myself, warts and all.

“…share my story?”

What I love so much about this question is that you have complete control of the story you choose to tell. I’m not suggesting you lie or withhold the truth, but you don’t have to give everything away every time. It’s important to always keep some things for yourself, no matter what.

There’s many ways to tell a story – for example, the hero’s journey, the StoryBrand framework, and even Pixar has one too. Heck, a story doesn’t have to be linear either – it can be a messy exploration of seemingly unrelated events. Give what happened over to your imagination and see what’s possible.

But in essence, what sharing your story does is give other permission to accept their own. It creates a channel via which connection and learning is possible, not just healing. Because trauma will tell you that no one understands, but story will show you that almost everyone will.

Let creativity carry you out of the darkness

It doesn’t matter what you’ve lived through, creativity can be the light that pulls you out of that pitch black limbo. It’s a process that happens inside of you for free, a way for you to connect the dots and figure out what it all means. And if you can give a painful experience a reason for existing, well, then my friend, you’ve won.

Creatively yours,

Dr Maz xoxo

PS: We’re halfway through 2026 and I’m in a completely different life than I thought I would be. How about you? I find myself, more and more, becoming sentimental for what was, what could’ve been, and what I lost. AND, at the same time, challenging myself to embrace the life that’s begging to be lived right in front of me. And I’m starting to think that maybe that’s the whole point of it all.

I’ve received very unsavory responses and praise in equal measure, which shows me just how emotional and passionate we all are about our retaining our humanity. And, for the record, I’m not anti-AI – but I like the words of Cherie Clonan (CEO of The Digital Picnic) who says she’s “anti-extraction”.

But the thing I can’t get over is that we were never really given a choice about whether or not we wanted to use AI. We were only given a choice of platform. So I’m wrestling with this question.

Creative Self-Inquiry

“How do I keep up…”

You’ve seen all the chatter online about how if you don’t adopt AI you’ll get left behind. You’re likely also seen the anti-AI sentiment rising with so many people saying, “yes, good, leave me behind, because I don’t want to go where you’re going.” But, as you probably have come to experience, it’s not that binary.

For those of us who work mostly online, we have to learn to integrate AI into our workflows. Whether we want to or not. And I’ve found a way within my part-time role to do that, luckily with the support of leaders who protect my creativity. But not everyone is that lucky.

In reality, we can’t keep up, especially in Australia. We’re already about 8 years behind the race, so the challenge is to find a pace you can sustain. As Creatives, we have a few things on our side already too, like our insatiable curiosity and olympic level problem-solving skills. But that doesn’t mean you can’t push back, question, and challenge the use of AI. In fact, we must.

“…when I don’t want to?”

I don’t know about you, but if I’m not interested in something, I won’t do it. So when faced with something as huge as artificial intelligence, despite my curiosity and love of new tech, I often struggle to find an entry point into it. Not because I’m avoiding it, I can’t – but because using it leaves me feeling empty.

We’re emotional creatures who want to feel. And you could argue that people feel more when connecting with Chat GPT or falling in love with Claude, but that’s not love, it’s attachment. Any tool that erodes the skills you’ve spent decades building for the sake of virtually invisible productivity gains is something to keep a watchful eye on.

Don’t fall victim to the ‘if you can’t beat them, join them’ trap

You can use AI and be critical of it. You can keep people accountable for their actions and still retain your own moral compass. As much as the world wants you to believe it’s a zero sum game, it’s not. But we must give ourselves a counterbalance to the sanitised disembodiment of AI.

Take lots of breaks. Write with pen and paper. Engage in the process of making. Get your hands dirty. Ask your friends and family the questions you want to ask AI. If you don’t maintain those beautiful human traits, they will disappear – and the utter uniqueness of you will go along with it.

Creatively yours,

Dr Maz xoxo

PS: As with anything, AI itself isn’t the problem: it’s how and why it’s being used. But we’re definitely living through the biggest global change since the printing press was invented. I, for one, am excited to see where this goes. But I am suspicious about its promises.

Creativity is mystical at the best of times, but it becomes increasingly more elusive in the face of pain, grief, and loss. The overwhelming saltiness of uncertainty combined with the spice of change creates a flavour profile with no room for self-agency.

It’s why I’ve come to understand trauma and creativity as opposites, two sides of the same coin, parts to a whole. But it does beg the question: where does all that creativity go?

Creative Self-Inquiry

“When…”

As humans, our lives are dictated by the clock: when we get up, how long we’re at work, cooking times, sunrise, sunset, and everything in between. We ask ‘when’ second only to ‘how’ because we’re meaning-making machines – and time helps contain meaning.

But as the physicists have told us, time is an illusion – everything, everywhere is happening all at once. So is it our impatience with healing that forces us to look to the clock for an answer to our own creative block? Or is there another mechanism at work, shielding us in plain sight, from the terror of our own reality? It’s probably both.

Our body, in its infinite wisdom, can shut down parts of our inner world to conserve energy and keep us alive when we need it most. When trauma bursts onto the scene, it sends our nervous system into overdrive, relinquishing control of the regular programming. Time can’t compete with that – in fact, time might just be the thing that makes it worse before it gets better.

“…will my creativity come back?”

The short answer is no… because it didn’t actually go anywhere. I’ve worked with dozens of people who were convinced they’d lost the magic – only to ‘rediscover’ it while washing the dishes, drawing with their kids, or letting their mind wander over coffee one random Tuesday morning. But how did that happen?

They let go of the desperate desire to BE CREATIVE. I see so much ‘creative advice’ online that shouts platitudes like ‘we need your art’ or ‘artists don’t sleep’ or ‘start before you’re ready’. While these might work for the person who isn’t filled with holes, getting blown around their life from the winds of grief, it often just makes you feel like you’re not enough.

You can’t look outside of you for a process that only exists within you. Creativity isn’t something you can buy, drink, or watch. It lives. It breaths. It IS you. Wired deeply into your brain, felt in your body, and expressed through your actions and behaviours. So asking if it will come back is the wrong question.

Lost creativity isn’t actually lost

The question to be asking instead is more pointed: when will I let my version of creativity be enough? For years I’ve beaten myself up for not being an internationally recognised writer. A best-seller. A cultural icon. But then I realised I was so caught up in that story that I wasn’t even creating anything that I liked.

The moment I turned inward and doubled down on the story that’s only mine was the moment it all finally clicked. It’s still a work in progress – because I want this to last forever – but creativity hasn’t left my side since. So could today be the day that you finally put down the weight of expectations and embrace the creativity that’s already yours?

Creatively yours,

Dr Maz xoxo

PS: I was quoted in the article which has caused quite a stir. So much so I got my first ‘hater’. It feels like a turning point in my life because I stood up for something I believed in and spoke about something that many women are afraid to speak about. That, to me, is a creative win.

I’m sure I could blame ADHD (I’m in the diagnosis process as we speak) but that feels too easy. I could also blame technology, but that doesn’t feel right either. And I know I’m not all to blame because I’ve built up some pretty powerful habits that allow me to work and create.

Lately I’ve caught myself doom scrolling, not knowing when I picked up my phone. Time evaporating at warp speed as the weeks turn into months turn into years. So here I sit, genuinely asking today’s question.

Creative Self-Inquiry

“Where did all…”

A hot topic in productivity circles, seeking focus is like the old analogy of chasing the dragon: you never find it, you only become more and more deeply entrenched in the addiction of seeking it.

And I’ve been down that rabbit hole – you likely have to – only to return filled with more questions than answers:

• I read Oliver Burkeman’s Four Thousand Weeks and it left me in more of a panic.

• I read Atomic Habits by James Clear and loved the switch from goals to systems, but found that systems thinking stifled my creativity.

• I read The Dose Effect by Tj Power, which was designed beautifully, but covered so many things I was already doing.

This led me to wonder: maybe the definition of ‘focus’ is out of date?

Focus means ‘directing your attention or energy toward a specific subject or task’, but I always like to go to the etymology of a word to see where it came from.

Focus, in Ancient Rome, had a VERY different meaning… In Latin, the focus was the literal and symbolic centre of a household. The hearth or fireplace. It was where warmth, light, cooking, and family life gathered. Then, in the 17th century, astronomer Johannes Kepler first to used the term in a mathematical and scientific sense, as a “point of convergence”. And from the 18th century onwards, it became known more as a ‘centre for activity’, which is closer to the definition we’re familiar with today.

But I actually LOVE the Roman concept: focus equals home. So if you’re also feeling as scattered as I am, maybe it’s time to retreat and return home to what it is you really love. To the people, places, and ideas that feel warm, inviting, and ultimately, yours.

“…my focus go?”

I know I don’t need to remind you of how much is happening in the world right now. Look to any screen and you’ll instantly be pulled into whatever war, click-bait, or lifestyle someone who doesn’t know you is trying to sell.

To say we’re living in the age of distraction is an understatement.

But if we adopt the definition of focus above – focus equals home – perhaps the reason you’re so distraction is because you’re disoriented, not weak willed. If you don’t know where your home is, where you want to return to, life becomes a confusing and dizzying mess. Or, as I know it, a spiral spinning on the spot.

When I feel this way, I do what I’ve always done: I come back to my journal and engage in some good ol’ fashioned self-expression. For me, words (and the act of writing) have been the anchor, my ‘home’, for as long as I can remember. And the reason I share this with you so confidently, is because I know you’ll also have your own anchor, too.

It could be drawing. It might be dance. Maybe even conversation.

Each of us has a medium that calls to us no matter what we’re doing. The thing that we reach for when that idea hits and asks us to be its steward into the world.

Sure, you can experiment, try different things, but in my experience there’s always one practice you return to naturally that feels effortlessly. Kind of like breathing.

So, when your focus (home) has gone, return to it by engaging in that one creative action that makes you feel like you again. And if you don’t know what that is, you’re lying, ha. Or maybe you’ve been through some shit where you had to suppress it, which is an act of survival, but this could be your sign to crack open the vault and let it out (just a smidge).

Your creative homecoming starts today

One page. One canvas. One song. It’s all it takes to pull focus back to what’s important. But it’s worth noting that none of the productivity advice will work if you’re completely locked up internally. Get support, breathe deeply, and be brave – the only person that needs your creativity is you.

Creatively yours,

Dr Maz xoxo

PS: If words and writing are also your home base, I’ve got something for you. My Journal Prompts For Beginners digital guide is a great place to start. Or, for a stronger jolt, try Journal Prompts For Creativity.

Back in April, I had this idea to create an audiobook-type-podcast-thingy to capture a concept called Spiral Up that I’ve had for years. I’ve tried squishing it into courses, workshops, and even a journal prompt deck over the years, but to no avail.

But recently, something shifted. Both in my life (I moved house and started a new part-time job) and in my heart (that one is harder to quantify).

What I hadn’t realised is that I’ve never not been creating Spiral Up. It runs in and through every part of my life – from how I choose to start my day to the very notion of this Substack. It also led me to a fundamental question that I don’t think us creative-types ask often enough.

Creative Self-Inquiry

“How do I…”

One of the mistakes I see people make, time and time again, is that they put the cart before the horse when trying to bring an idea to life. They start with the form – book, podcast, business, etc – rather than the process.

If you want to write a book, you need to first become a writer. If you want to make a painting, you must first become a painter. It sounds stupidly obvious, but it’s how this creative self-inquiry begins: the “how” is your answer.

But here’s the thing… You can learn the steps of the creative process back to front. Follow it to the letter. And still – nothing happens. Or you don’t finish. Why?

There’s more to the magic of creating than just the ‘doing’ – there’s also the ‘being’. Are you the kind of writer that this book trusts to bring it to life? Is your idea even asking to be put into a book? What if it’s meant to be a song?

I’ve seen impatience kill more ideas than anything else. Slow down. Listen. Choose your craft. Show up as often as you can. It’s only then that you’ll be trusted enough with the information on how to reach the end goal.

“…make my idea…”

Ideas are tricky things. Open to interpretation, yet born of a specificity only certain people can see. I truly believe that when an idea is meant for you, you’ll know. And my best ideas have come from my hardest moments, not usually from anything outside of me.

That’s why a lot of creative advice falls flat. The idea and your lived experience is so tailored to you that it’s virtually impossible for anyone else to intimately understand what leverage is needed to get you working.

But there’s one thing I can tell you that I know in my bones: you don’t force an idea to into existence. You flow with the creative process and let the idea find its form. Which I know sounds abstract, so let me simplify it.

Have you ever seen water successfully flow UP a mountain without any kind of human-made intervention? No. We’re the same. Made up of around 60% water, our natural inclination is to flow. But for some ungodly capitalist reason, we’ve been brainwashed to think that forcing things against their will actually works.

But if you get enough water flowing in the right direction, it has a force that’s unmatched (and potentially devastating). So there’s a balance to be found here. One that is a push and pull between ‘giving to’ and ‘receiving from’ an idea’s creative energy. I don’t have the exact formula, but I know when I’ve blown past my limits in either direction (and I bet you do too).

In the same way you can’t make someone fall in love with you, you can’t make an idea do anything it doesn’t want to do. But you can woo it, give it attention, and be vulnerable enough that over time it can’t help but open up to you.

“…a reality?”

To round this out, let’s get a little meta. Reality is made up of three things:

1. Individual perception.

2. Shared agreements.

3. The physical universe.

There’s multiple interconnected layers happening at all times – think Everything Everywhere All At Once vibes – shifting and evolving as each second passes. So the way you turn an idea into reality is to plant it in all three, starting with your own perception.

An idea becomes real when it moves out of theoretical or imagined space. I.e., it isn’t just living rent free in your head. You could write it down or tell it to someone. It’s as simple and an complex as that.

Let’s use Spiral Up as an example…

I’ve been talking about it and pulling at its threads since 2017. That’s a long time. Any idea with legs will stick with you and grow alongside you, so time isn’t the issue here. It exists in my individual perception and in shared agreements I have with the people I’ve told about it. But it doesn’t really exist in the physical universe…. or rather, it didn’t until I realised it’s been living here, on Substack.

In my quest to bring this idea to life, I made the mistake that I’ve seen other make: I put the cart (audiobook-type-podcast-thingy) before the horse (Spiral Up). You see, Spiral Up never wanted to be spoken – it wanted to be read. And I can tell this is true by how easily it flows from me when I open up Substack and ask it to come through.

I was forcing the audiobook idea even though I was already flowing with The Wound Is The Work. I think sometimes we tend to overcomplicate creativity because we think it needs to be grander or more unique to garner attention. But if the idea is strong enough, it will transcend form and live on in ways we never dreamed possible.

Where might your creativity be hiding?

If you’re talking about it, making notes about it, and can’t stop exploring it, chance are it’s already being created. But the idea might be hiding in plain sight. So instead of looking to reinvent the wheel and put it in a new cart, how can you look beyond control and force to see what the horse actually needs?

Creatively yours,

Dr Maz xoxo

PS: I recently shared my experience about AI and burnout. If you’re feeling a bit out of sorts, it might provide some solace.

Instead of shying away from my reality, Lexi asked me one of the most powerful questions I’ve ever heard:

"WHAT WILL YOU MAKE FROM THIS?”

It ignited a part of me that was ready to fight for healing. The part that had always known there’s different paths out a trauma that don’t lead to self-destruction or the drain.

Since I started doing this work, I get asked all the time about whether or not there’s a ‘right time’ to turn your pain into Art. So let’s formalise my answer here in the hopes that if you’re teetering on the edge of that creative journey, you’ll be able to finally make a decision.

Creative Self-Inquiry

“How do you when you’re ready…”

This might be the trickiest part of the question. But, in my experience, there will be tells. Here’s a few to keep an eye out for:

1. If you can tell the story of ‘what happened’ without blame, without crying, and without fear, you might be ready.

2. You find the lesson in the experience of what you went through and want to share it, you might be ready.

3. You feel haunted by it and are fed up to the point of frustration, you might be ready.

4. You feel a desire to journal or write down your experience, you might be ready.

Everyone will have their own tells. It might even just be an inner feeling that you want to do something with what you went through. It could be loud, it might be quiet, it might not even make a sound.

There’s also no time limit, either. You might be ready right away. Or it could take decades. It all depends on what happened, how much support you have, and what season of life you’re in. The most important thing to do is call in some self-compassion – no matter what kind of readiness you feel, you’re going to need it.

“…to make art…”

This is where I’d like to pause and offer a quick definition. Why? Because the word ‘Art’ is a loaded one which may have made you flinch just now.

I define art as any outward action stemming from authentic self-expression. It’s not necessarily about the form it takes – because a meal and a painting are both Art – but about the intention of the creator.

If, at some point in your life, someone told you that you weren’t creative, I want to apologise on their behalf. They were perpetuation their own story of lack, likely from what was said to them about their skills.

Everyone is creative and can make art. Period.

You don’t have to monetise it. You don’t have to share it with anyone.

Art is one of the best places to plant your pain. Not because it’s going to produce a masterpiece, but because it stops your pain exploding in every direction, typically hurting the ones you love the most. By channeling it into a poem, recipe, pattern, painting, etc, you give it a purpose.

And that, my friends, is the fast track to healing.

“…about something painful?”

Much like the definition of art above, ‘something painful’ isn’t easy to pin down. What’s painful for you, might not even register on my scale, and vice versa. If it hurts, it’s painful. Doesn’t matter what happened or how long ago, if it still causes you to shrink in fear, it’s a painful thing.

You don’t need to be in pain to make art, but pain does need somewhere to go, otherwise it has the potential to boil you alive. Talk therapy, journaling, somatic practices, and movement, are great pressure release valves, but creativity can actually transmute (change) the pain into something else.

Trauma and loss leave big holes in us. I truly believe grief is our brain’s way of trying to fill that hole. Which it does a beautiful job of covering over time, but it’s never quite strong enough to hold. So finding the right shape to fit the hole is a creative action, one that has the power to change your life.

So many of my beliefs have changes and evolved over the years, but this one has remained solid. Creativity and trauma are bound together, like two sides of the same coin, because we need both to grow and live. Create too much and you burn out; sit in your loss and you’ll drown.

But if you can learn to turn them over each other gently, blending them together in the same way you’d fold water into flour, you might just create something nourishing.

Life flips the coin – you’re the one who calls it

If you’re going through a particularly shitty time right now, I know how all-encompassing that can be. I won’t tell you it will change or that ‘this too shall pass’, but I will remind you that this is part of being alive. It hurts, it heals, it stings, it excites.

You can always make a different call because the coin is always in the air.

Creatively yours,

Dr Maz xoxo

PS: I’m in the process of creating a creative tool to help you do exactly this. My hope is to get it out in June, but let’s just see what life wants. If that’s something you’re interested in, reply and let me know (because I also need the accountability).

This week’s musing isn’t going to be about ADHD though because I genuinely don’t find it all that compelling on its own. I’m more fascinated by it’s devastating ability to crush creativity, seemingly with ease and without remorse.

Yesterday I realised it’s been over two months since my Easter Creative Sprint Weekend and I’ve barely touched my idea since. Not out of avoidance or fear – in fact, I don’t even know why. So let’s see if we can unpack it together here.

Creative Self-Inquiry

“Why can’t I create…”

It sounds accusatory, right? On your knees, storm clouds rumbling with thunder above your hear, screaming at the sky, begging for mercy.

At least that’s how it might feel. In reality, it’s rhetorical – you probably know why. Or at least a part of you does.

For neurodivergent creative women, the combo of unregulated attention, low dopamine, and insatiable curiosity can sometimes cancel each other out. An idea, so compelling and impossible to ignore, eventually loses its lustre once you’re out living your life.

Living itself is one big Distraction Fest, with no shortage of bright lights and shiny things engineered to pull you away from what YOU actually want to work on.

I know I sound like I know what I’m talking about, but I’m yet to get anywhere close to solving this riddle (thus the side quest to investigate my brain).

But I’m starting to think that maybe the creative self-inquiry above isn’t even asking to be answered – only to be acknowledged. When everything in the world is shoving commands and directives down your throat, what hope does the quiet magic of creativity have to ever compete?

In my experience, it sidles up to us in our most vulnerable moments, offering a way out of the noise, stress, and overwhelm. But far too often it’s confused for the overwhelm itself.

Maybe the issue is that we’ve forgotten how to really listen?

“…anymore?”

How dramatic is the end of this question, ha! Whenever absolutes creep into your thoughts, take it as a signal that whatever is trying to get through is a threat. To what?

Typically your sense of safety.

There could be real reasons why you can’t create right now, but the extremism of the word ‘anymore’ puts the final nail in the coffin of any possible rebuttal.

There’s no arguing with it. Accept your fate.

OR…

See this lashing out as a fissure, an opening. That part of you that wants to bring something new into the world has been ignored and is desperately trying to get your attention.

The urgency or languish with which this creative self-inquiry arises is energy you can harness to get back to work. The right idea won’t leave you alone until it’s brought to fruition, so don’t let the passing of time fool you into believing it’s too late.

Pay attention to your inner self

It actually doesn’t matter if you ever finish any creative work. There’s lots of people shouting online that ‘We NeEd yOUr ArT’, but the truth is we don’t. But YOU do. Whatever that means to you, whatever that looks like.

All I care about is that you’re experiencing creativity as often as you can. 30 minutes a day is all it takes to feel like a human again when the world wants you to be nothing more that a productivity machine.

So “why can’t I create anymore?” Well, maybe (just maybe) it’s because you’ve been listening to everything else except yourself.

Creatively yours,

Dr Maz xoxo

PS: I’m moving house this weekend and finally getting back into my own space after 1.5 years of adventuring around. It’s not the move I had planned, but it might just be the move I need. More to come…

For one, I’ve started having what I’ve lovingly named ‘mini panics’ at random times. Often right before I’m about to sleep, or when I’m thinking about all the experiences I still want to have. My therapist categorises them as “checks and balances” – circuit breakers that remind me I’m alive – especially since I’ve witnessed so many people I care about pass away.

For two, I realised the sheer breadth of experiences I’ve had and how heavy they can be sometimes. From breakups to goals achieved, bucket list experiences to unexpected windfalls, there’s so much to integrate that at times I get overwhlemed by the volume of it all.

And for three, I feel like I’m JUST getting started. This one is like a firecracker under me on the days when I forget how lucky I am to be here – and the days where all the leftover pain from the above encompass me.

This ‘existential crisis’ has led me to ask all kinds of questions, so let’s start with one of the most formative.

Creative Self-Inquiry

“What is a wound…”

It’s a disruption, an injury, a break, a fisher, a gap, a glitch, a liminal space. It’s what’s left behind after something you loved has left you. Or a reminder of something that should never have been there in the first place.

Where creativity is concerned, a wound can be:

• Physical: a broken limb, strained back, autoimmune disease

• Emotional: imposter syndrome, fear of being seen, rejection, betrayal, or

• Spiritual: lack of meaning, loss of faith, missplaced intentions.

We all carry wounds because we are alive. Many people choose to ignore their wounds and wonder why their lives stagnate. But those who are brave enough to tend to their wounds often find themselves living full, expansive days.

The wounding was never the problem: what happens afterwards is where our attention must gravitate.

“…and how…”

Last week I wrote that if we ask ‘how’ in the creative process we’re somewhat missing the point. The same applies to wounds and healing. The ‘how’ can keep you trapped for decades. I’ll lean on a biological process here to explain.

After some physical injuries, a scab will form to cover and protect a wound from infection and further damage. That’s easy enough to understand when you cut yourself), but if it’s an emotional wound, things get murky pretty fast.

Physical scabs heal faster when they’re kept moist and covered. As a kid, you were probably told not to pick at scabs, because it slows down the healing process. It’s a different story, however, for emotional scabs.

“…do I heal it?”

Healing an emotional wound isn’t as straightforward as putting on a cream and bandage. It’s a non-linear journey that requires superhuman levels of patience and self-compassion, along with actively acknowledging pain and feeling your feelings.

The good news is that you don’t have to do it alone: lean on your peeps, talking to a therapist, journal it out, or even channel that emotion into creating something useful or beautiful.

What if the goal wasn’t to heal wounds, but to integrate them into the story of who we are? Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from going round and roung the trauma coaster is that the quality of your life is directly impacted by the stories you choose to tell about it.

Not in a ‘toxic positivity’ or ‘delulu is the solulu’ way, but in a ‘I went through this experience and here’s what it taught me’ kind of way. While we don’t often get to choose the wound, we can choose how we carry it with us going forward – this is how scabs heal… and not become permanent scars.

You get to write the new story, so why not make it an empowering one

Human beings are meaning-making machines: it’s one of the things we do best. And while the world is addicted to the 24/7 news cycle of destruction, your inner life doesn’t need to be as tumultuous.

I strongly believe there’s a lesson in everything if you’re willing to seek it out. Every wound makes your story more unique, nuanced, and harder to replicate – and that, my friends, is fertile soil for making cool shit.

Creatively yours,

Dr Maz xoxo

PS: Wounds can also happen after something good too: achieving a goal, finishing a creative project, or even moving house. You get to decide and create how they live on – take your time to find the right vessel.

You can imagine my glee at getting to listen to their insights and stories. But more than anything, these wise women reminded me that no matter what destruction is going on in the world there’s always the soil of new life being created. This, and other synchronicities, led me to this question.

Creative Self-Inquiry

There was a strong thread that ran through the conversation that validated this very creative adventure of “The Wound Is The Work”. As AI and technology accelerates, we must prioritise the expansion of our inner lives to match. That tension – between our inner and outer selves – might just be the antidote to the uncertainty that flavours life in the 2020s.

“How do I create anything…”

Whenever you ask ‘how’ to do something, you unintentionally block yourself from creating. I don’t believe that the ‘how’ is ever the point of the process: it has always been the ‘why’ and the ‘what’ (in that order).

If you’re already asking ‘how’, it’s likely because the ‘why’ isn’t compelling enough, and/or you haven’t landed on the ‘what’ yet. Meaning and form shape the ‘how’ and lay out the steps to get there… but only if you trust in the veracity of the ‘why’ and ‘what’.

“…when my life…”

Once you know the ‘why’ and the ‘what’, it’s time to pick your filters, ie. decide what’s important to you. This is completely within your control. You can choose what matters and not factor in the rest.

For example, is making a lot of money important? Or is having time freedom what motivates you? Or is connecting and supporting others the vibe? By dictating the terms of your creative process from the get-go, you remove other potential blocks that could get in the way. What matters to you will be the compass pointing you in the direction of what is trying to be created through you.

“…(and the world)…”

From the moment you open your eyes in the morning, there’s no shortage of news, distractions, adventures, horrors, and genuinely good people ready to pull you away from creating. The challenge is to create ‘the thing’ anyway, despite what’s going on around you.

Using The World as a reason (read: excuse) to withhold self-expression is like holding your breath because you don’t want to use up too much oxygen. The world is always going to be out there, tempting you away from what’s important to you and what you want to make. Sometimes being part of it is inescapable, but when it’s not, choose self-expression as often as you can.

“…is in constant chaos?”

I hope by now you’ve come to terms with the fact that change is constant. And what is chaos but the change we didn’t choose. So while you can’t choose your chaos, you can design how you want to ride it out.

Don’t go to your grave with a head full of ideas and a heart clogged with unexpressed emotions. Join the chaos in all of your beautiful complexity because that’s when the real fun actually begins.

Creativity is the offspring of chaos and organisation – new and terrifying, yet somehow familiar

Whether you create for fun, for healing, for money, or for sanity, it doesn’t matter. What’s important is that you create.

What’s new will be scary for a time, then mundane and boring: because that’s how life is. Welcome the full spectrum of the process and be rewarded with more than the outcome… you might just learn a thing or two along the way.

Creatively yours,

Dr Maz xoxo

PS: Here are 3 key takeaways from the Berry x Krista talk, incase you need the reminders.

I did my research from 2013–2017, before the COVID-19 pandemic, before the wars, and before artificial intelligence (AI) put us in this current death grip. This is significant because what I didn’t consider is that we would end up living in a world that’s not post-trauma.

So with death and destruction infinitely scrolling before our eyes every day, the only real respite is to close your eyes and tap in. Here’s how I do that (which, naturally, starts with asking myself a question).

Creative Self-Inquiry

You might already be thinking: “but Dr Maz, what does that have to do with my inner self?!” EVERYTHING. Your inner landscape is as vast as you make it – and it’s completely within your control (especially when it doesn’t feel like it). So when the world is spiralling down, you have the agency to turn in and spiral up… but how?

I’ve come to learn that creativity is the answer to just about every problem. Not artistry, but pure creativity, ie. connecting the dots in new and interesting ways. More so when your external world has been destroyed or is falling apart. That’s your cue to collect all the pieces and look for new ways to put it back together.

Let’s do that with today’s creative self-inquiry question. Because I don’t know about you, but I could use a fresh perspective on the shitstorm that is 2026 right now!

“What good…”

These two words are powerfully provocative in their simplicity. They’re beginning you to pull focus, to look for the good. There’s no shortage of bad out there, but the same is true for kind, beautiful, and positive things, too. Your background, lived experience and beliefs might have put up a negative filter, but it’s never too late to swap it out for one that’s more optimistic (therapy, journaling and self-care are a good place to start).

But what IS good nowadays? It’s anything that’s beneficial, morally excellent, virtuous, or purposeful. When applied to creativity, it has nothing to do with aesthetics: it’s the intention underneath it. ‘What good’ asks you to choose a problem and offering an alternative – from where you are, with what you have.

“…can creativity actually do for”

Creativity isn’t a magic bullet or a cure-all for the world’s maladies though. It’s not about ‘solving’ anything either, because that’s not how life works. Change is constant and creativity gives you a way to not only cope with uncertainty, but harness it.

When you have a creative mindset, you can view change and loss as opportunities, not obstacles. Life is always giving you the raw materials for growth and, just like a plant, you need different materials, in different ratios, to bloom.

But here’s the kicker: when you start by creating for yourself first, you end up creating what others need. There might be a physical object made in the end, but that’s not the real point of the process. The point is to be an active participant in your own life, not sit back from the sidelines and watch the world crumble around you.

“…all this pain, loss and horror?”

This part of the question is hard. I hate that we bear witness to so much destruction, but I also believe that we do need to see it (to a certain extent). The hill I’ve claimed to die on is that it’s possible to grow after trauma by being creative – but that doesn’t mean I think everyone should be traumatised to do it.

Whether it happens firsthand in your own life, or in the lives of those around you, there’s nothing fun or light about psychological trauma. While I’m not a psychologist, trauma has torn my life apart a few times. Despite my default mode being ‘relentless optimism’, it hurt like hell, and it took me years to find a place where I wasn’t running from it or being self-destructive.

Here’s the truth: you might not be ready

If you’re asking today’s creative self-inquiry question to yourself, you might not be ready to create from that dark place. Time and therapeutic work needs to get you to a point where it doesn’t burn, but maybe just stings, in order to offer something good (that won’t trigger others).

There will come a point, however, when a small voice asks: “what could we make from this?” And what I’m here to do is help you nurture that voice by giving it creative fuel – because the more of us that do this work, the more beauty, magic, and goodness can flourish in this traumatised world.

Remember: there’s someone out there who’s currently going through what you went through, praying for the insights that only you can offer. You don’t need to start a business, become a life coach, or even write a book… but your lived experience is trying to find a form to take and you owe it to your past self to let it out.

Creatively yours,

Dr Maz xoxo

PS: You may want to listen to this podcast episode if you’re looking for a way to reignite your creativity. And then buy the book, too.

As the months went on, the misalignment grew, resulting in their decision to let me go at the end of my probationary period. It stung. I’ve never been ‘let go’ from a job like this – even though it wasn’t entirely surprising, it still activated me.

I went into full story mode, creating narratives about people that weren’t true, because my beautiful brain was trying to protect me. It brought up all the other jobs I’ve tried and left, bringing up a dull ache that I’m still nursing.

ButI kept on reminding myself, every single day for the last week, that this is the spiral. And I’ve just been offered a part-time role with one of my freelance clients that’s more aligned to my skills and lifestyle. While I can’t attribute ‘cause and effect’ here, my trust in the direction of my spiral (always expansive, always up), is what has kept me steady.

But it did bring up a very potent question.

Creative Self-Inquiry

I think about this ALL THE DAMN TIME. Especially as someone whose early life was punctuated by some pretty serious trauma – which actually felt normal to me, but my psychologist pointed out is really not (lol).

If you read last week’s musing about spirals, you’ll know that I believe our natural state is exponential growth. But random events have a way of bumping us off course, leaving behind gaping holes within us (aka grief and loss) that are like a vacuum – if you’re not careful, they’ll suck in the wrong things to fill themselves.

The reverberations of grief and loss have this confounding ability to echo through our lives. Culture at large broadcasts this message that we need to ‘get over it’ or ‘move on’, but I don’t think we ever really can. The wound is the work and it frames how you experience life, so it’s not an obstacle to conquer, but a portal through which to create and grow.

So, how could you approach today’s creative self-inquiry question with a creative, not traumatised, lens?

Let’s break it down…

“After all this time…”

I could dedicate a separate Substack to talking about our misconceptions around time and grief. Ironically, I don’t have the time to do that (yet), but I’m always surprised that I’m still shocked when I get hit with a grief wave of something that happened years ago.

I’ve learned to visualise all the painful things I’ve been through as a string of pearls hanging vertically. They’re all connected and they’re all the same size and colour – when a new one gets added, I can feel every single one of them.

So when we wonder “after all this time” why it all still hurts, I think that’s why: it’s all the same pain, the same grief, and the same loss. Some will have a bigger impact initially, but over time, there’s this low hum that vibrates with the knowledge of all that has been lost.

“…why does it still…”

The word I want to highlight, circle, and underline here is STILL. When we ask ourselves why something has happened, it’s almost rhetorical, because we really don’t know. But ‘still’ has a persistence that’s harder to ignore.

That one word is loaded with so much judgement and expectation about the relationship between you and your pain. It’s demanding to know why you haven’t let it go or what it is about this particular hurt that won’t let you go.

But I think there’s something WAY more interesting going on. What if there’s something in it that’s screaming out to be created – an image, a piece of writing, or even a learning that is engineered to move you forward?

When a hurt returns, time and time again, it’s an opportunity to face it and make something of it. That’s what my work is really all about: transmuting pain into creative aliveness. So answering this question today, instead of letting it become rhetorical, what would it take for you to sit with it and see what comes up?

“…hurt?”

When this word arrives, it signals that there’s been damage. But it also spotlights feeling. It’s innately human to feel, especially the intense emotions that flood and singe our hearts and minds.

Maybe your default mode is to rush into action when you feel hurt, to do anything and everything to make it stop. Or perhaps the opposite? To languish and let it all drag you under. Or even flip flop between the two.

Make no mistake: trauma is coming for us all. If you haven’t had a big one yet, you will one day. We’re all going to get hurt by something, maybe even something good – but this, my creative friend, is the beauty and price of living.

“After all this time, why does it still hurt?”

Because you are alive. And you don’t have to leave it at that – you can channel all of that pain, grief, anger, loss, and feeling, into something that helps other people in some small way. The Internet Coaches will tell you it has to change people’s lives, but I’m going to tell you it doesn’t – keep it small on purpose.

Whatever you do with your pain has to be manageable for you, first. There needs to be some level of safety you feel before you can even hold it long enough without getting burnt. That’s why we start with stopping, finding stillness, and listening. Then we find our words (more on this soon).

This is what it feels like to be in the spiral

Dizzying, confusing, clarifying, exciting, terrifying. Even if nothing practically changes in your day-to-day life, you feel different – sometimes it’s fast and uplifting (Logarithmic Spiral) and at other times it’s steady and mundane (Archimedean Spiral).

No matter whether it feels like we’re speeding forward or sliding backwards, there’s almost movement. We can influence the direction by asking better questions that deepen creative self-inquiry. Why?

Because, spoiler alert, your life is actually the spiral.

Let that sink in.

Creatively yours,

Dr Maz xoxo

PS: Did you catch Taylor Swift in The New York Times? It’s overflowing with brilliant creative advice.

Last week I returned to Substack with an (re)introduction (of sorts), priming you for what’s to come. I was also priming myself for the release of what I’ve had to suppress in the last 6 months away from this work. But the dam, my friends, has well and truly burst (more on that soon).

So welcome to your new era of creative aliveness, which starts and continues with a question, even though there was no beginning (and there’s really no end)…

Creative Self-Inquiry

To unpack that question, you need to understand a core part of my work: the spiral. Why?

Nothing in nature is a straight line – and we’re no different. When you know what arc of the spiral you’re currently in, everything changes.

What is a spiral?

A spiral is a curve that starts from a centre point and continues to revolve around that point, tightening or expanding outwards (or upwards, depending on the orientation and dimension), but never returning to its origin.

While we might be bound by our skin and physical form, we too are a spiral – our version happens creatively inside of us, rather than externally. You’ve probably heard yourself say, “I’m SPIRALLING”, when shit goes wrong. That’s not an accident. Every experience, every thought, every idea, and every emotion connects to each other… it’s how we get ‘wound up’, feel like we’re ‘unravelling’, and notice when life ‘spins out of control’.

Types of spirals

There are different types of spirals that exist but in my work I focus on two – Archimedean and Logarithmic – because when it comes to your creative life, there’s really two core modes: stasis (no growth) and flow (growth).

Archimedean (constant distance)

An Archimedean spiral, named after the Greek mathematician Archimedes, has an arc that consistently moves away from its origin at the same speed over time. It’s what coils and bedsprings are modelled off: even, measured, and predictable. Also called an arithmetic spiral, it’s trajectory and angle stays constant and linear, unlike a Logarithmic spiral which is geometric (see below).

When life feels like it’s on autopilot because you’re not living in accordance to your values or creating the thing you want to create, it feels like this spiral. There’s no spark, no excitement, and no real growth. That’s not always a bad thing – we do need seasons of homogeneity – but if it lasts too long, that’s when the urge to ‘burn it all down’ and start again often appears (which, I might add, I’m a huge fan of lol).

Logarithmic (natural growth)

A Logarithmic spiral, however, expands exponentially, but its shape remains the same regardless of scale. It’s characterised by a constant tangent pitch angle where the distance between each arc of the spiral is double what came before it.

It’s the flight path of a falcon stalking its prey. The pattern on the face of a sunflower. The swirl of a galaxy’s arms out into the universe. It’s your natural state – certain experiences amplify it, while others throw it entirely off course (which is what we’re here to learn how to better cope with, right?).

Loss and grief are the repercussions of an interrupted Logarithmic spiral

In hindsight, I was on a fairly steady Logarithmic spiral since leaving high school, enjoying steady progress, hitting goals, and amassing insane life experiences traveling the world. But that changed in 2013, right before I started my PhD.

It was on the tail end of moving back to Australia from the US, both after my grandpa died in 2012 and the news that my mum was getting worse (from the brutal cocktail of alcoholism and emphysema, pun sadly intended).

I felt like Swiss cheese: full of holes, floppy, and a little mouldy. I hadn’t yet discovered posttraumatic growth, but I knew I was on the precipice of something huge. Which is how creativity sometimes likes to arrive – quietly, yet dramatically.

Maybe you’ve had that experience too where life has been humming along beautifully, then BAM… everything has changed. The direction you were heading is no longer an option and suddenly you feel like you’re spinning in circles on the spot (thanks trauma!).

And the weirdest part is that it’s all happening INSIDE OF YOU, so no one else understands, can really help, or take it away to give you a break. That’s why the wound is the work – because the exponential spiral that is your natural growth state never stops, it just gets bumped or tilted off course by painful and unexpected changes in your life.

There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s not personal. Nothing “picked you” to torment. It’s simply how the Universe works. And the sooner you embrace the exponential power of your spiral, the faster you can get back on track.

Creative Self-Inquiry

This is your first task. Answer this question honestly on paper. If you’re someone who doesn’t journal regularly or find this ask overwhelming, here’s a few different angles you can use to approach it gently by breaking the question down into parts:

1. WHAT TRUTH: Don’t overcomplicate or fear the word ‘truth’. Make an honest statement about the ‘thing’ you want to confront, whether that’s something that happened to you, something you did, or something that hasn’t happened yet that you’ve been wishing for. It’s something that you know, deep down, and believe in, e.g. He broke my heart.

2. HAVE YOU BEEN DENYING: Whenever this truth has popped into your mind, you’ve ignore it, rationalised it away, or told yourself it’s not true. It’s the itch you can’t seem to scratch. The pain that still feels hot. The fear that grips you by the throat and won’t let go.

3. BY RUNNING FULL SPEED AT LIFE: The distractions, events, people, bad habits, numbing, disassociations, and autopilot moments that come after that truth. The ways you fill your time, even if it benefits other people, that take you further and further away from that truth until it looks like a speck of dust in the distance.

If you can name all of the above, congratulations – welcome to the next arc of your spiral. This is one of the first steps towards creative aliveness (aka reclaiming autonomy over your internal world) and often the most difficult asks to pull off.

If you can’t name the above, don’t panic – you will. The truth that’s evading you may have been buried under years (or decades) or life, so will take some time to excavate. keep returning to the page with your pen and keep asking the question. Eventually you’ll get so sick of asking it that some part of you will answer (so long as you keep coming back to it).

Next week…

We continue our quest into creative self-inquiry and dive even deeper into what it FEELS LIKE to be in Archimedean and Logarithmic spirals.

In the meantime, answer the question above – reach out if you get stuck or if you’re brave enough to share your truth.

Creatively yours,

Dr Maz xo

PS: Remember how at the start of this musing I said the dam has burst? I’ll explain everything next week – and you won’t believe it.

Yet still, I find myself on my knees at the altar of creativity. I’ve tried letting financial insecurity wipe me out. I’ve tried living as a digital nomad. I’ve tried doing the same tired work, over and over, in different guises. None of it has changed the simple fact that I still yearn to create, to use my voice, and connect with others who do the same.

That’s why I changed the name of this Substack. It’s not a marketing tactic – it’s a deepening of my research and creative practice. The title has a double meaning: it’s your ‘work’ to tend to your ‘wounds’ AND your best creative ‘work’ lives on the other side of your ‘wounds’. There is a portal we all need to step through and now is the time.

My portal was a Creative Sprint Weekend over Easter. I spent 2.5 days alone – no phone, no social media, no contact – in a hotel, deepening my creative self-inquiry, unraveling and refolding the concept of ‘Spiral Up’. When I came out on the other side, I was rejuvenated. No holiday had ever made me feel this way (in fact, the only other time I’ve felt similarly was when I did a Vipassana meditation retreat in 2015).

So welcome to this new era of mine. I do hope you’ll stay with me. A few of you snuck in over the last 8 months and might be thinking, “who the heck is Dr Maz?!”. You can get to know me better on Instagram or check out my website (which is, and always has been, a work in progress).

“What can I expect?”, you ask sheepishly. We’re going back to a weekly cadence, this time on Fridays. I want to help you practice creative self-inquiry over the weekend, rather than bombard you earlier in the week when you’ve got other things on your mind. Plus, creative self-inquiry is a relaxing and restorative practice, best suited to when you’re able to carve out some time solo.

The wound IS the work. In the coming months, I’ll be unpacking the Spiral Up process with you, in full. It’s non-linear and designed for those of us with differently wired brains (or those who might suspect they’re different). The loss and grief you feel, no matter how it made its way to you, is REAL and not something to just “get over” or “move past” – it’s the reason you're feeling called to create (and we’ll get into why, soon).

“Why should I bother to do this work?”, you breathily demand. Because you deserve to stop living your own life behind glass, watching time evaporate while your best ideas go unmade. Creative aliveness is dangerous to a well managed life and trying to ‘manage’ your life has sucked the joy out of it. And isn’t that why we’re ‘here’ (on Earth) in the first place? To LIVE?!

Next week you find your spot on the spiral and we begin.

Creatively yours,

Dr Maz xo

Aside from the persistent jet lag, my transition back into Aussie life was a smooth one. Heck, I even celebrated by 40th spin around the sun on August 3 (how the fark did that happen?!).

So naturally, after a monumental world adventure and a milestone birthday, I took pause to ask myself:

How do I want this next chapter to go?

The answer I found surprised me: why don’t you go and find out.

The AUDACITY of my Highest Self to suggest that I can’t possibly know the answer to that without living it first was both frustrating and achingly true. In a time when AI can give us every answer (but shortcut us on the figuring out part) I realised something:

I actually don’t want to know what comes next.

What I deeply crave is surprise, delight and the unknown – not in everyday life, but in the events, opportunities and creations that await me as the days and months unfold.

So as I sat down to map out what this space, The Creative Urge, could be, I found myself counting out how many posts I had to do before the end of the year. It’s 19, excluding this one, which feels really overwhelming (it’s one a week).

I do want to commit to this space as part of my creative process, but I don’t want to make it so rigid that it loses its spark. Creativity is by nature messy, unwieldy and hard to pin down… so why am I trying to structure it to death?!

Late stage capitalism has robbed us of our creative joy

Monetising every part of your creativity is a sure fire way to end up depleted, burnt out and depressed. And I don’t know about you, but I’d like to actually ENJOY myself in this next chapter of life. Heaven forbid I even keep something to myself!

“So Dr Maz, where to from here?”

I started this Substack back in July 2022 because I needed to learn the fine art of ‘consistency’. Writing this Substack and a few other habits instilled it in me successfully.

But one thing I’m endlessly curious about – which lives in the title of this Substack – is what we do with our ‘creative urges’.

So that’s what I’ll be documenting until I feel satisfies with my findings or another idea takes hold: each week I’ll share what creative urges I’ve had and how I’ve acted on them.

‘Cuz lets face it: you know what to do. You’re the only one who understands the nuances of your own creative energy and process, so I won’t imprint mine on you anymore (unless you ask for it or it’s related to an Urge).

I hope you’ll continue to travel alongside me in this crazy creative life because I adore our conversations. I can feel your attention through the screen and want us ALL to be able to find joy in creating amidst a world that’s constantly aflame.

Creatively yours,

Dr Maz xoxo

PS: I’m in planning mode for the next season of my podcast, What Doesn’t Kill Us. So if you’re interested in being a guest – or want to nominate someone – check out this Threads post for details.

PPS: We’ll resume regular Monday AEST writings from next week!

But as with any creative project, there comes a time when one must take pause, reevaluate and plan for the future.

So as I’ve just arrive in Italy for a real holiday, I’m going to take this time out from writing and creating to just BE.

I can’t wait to see what insights, ideas and a-ha moments find me as face plant bowl after bowl of pasta.

And if you too need to take a break from creating, consider this your giant permission slip to do so, guilt-free.

My intention is to return in about a month or so with fresh eyes.

Until then…

Creatively yours,

Dr Maz xoxo

PS: There’s still a lot happening over on my podcast, What Doesn’t Kill Us, for the next month. So if you miss me, that’s where I’ll meet you.

Instead of quitting and admitting defeat, I decided to do it anyway and spend the weeks before dialling in my rest and nutrition. So much so, that I spent the two days before my race in full potato mode on the couch, a slew of different carbs entering my body at regular intervals.

I could do this because of the hundreds of hours of training I’d already done, not because I thought I was a particularly gifted athlete. In fact, I was more than 20kg heavier only 5 years ago with zero fitness to my name.

So getting in shape was my “Covid Glow Up”, but it was anything but easy. False starts, slip ups and so many tears of frustration.

Yet that’s the thing with perseverance and not giving up.

Eventually, you get a breakthrough.

In the 5 years since starting this journey, I’ve learned more about creativity and my own capacity for greatness than at any other time in my life. And here’s why…

You gotta put in the reps

Creativity, much like fitness, increases when it’s used. Giving myself challenges – like drawing my travels or writing poetry for 30 mins each day – helps to build the muscle I need to achieve my dreams.

Strength and flexibility go hand in hand in the gym where ideas and imagination thrive when combined in your creative practice. And when you put in the reps, you’ll see results… often much faster than you think!

You gotta increase your endurance

Hyrox is predominately a running race: 1km intervals between each workout station means you’re going to need some serious cardiovascular strength.

In my case, as someone who’s only been running for a few years, I had a LOT of work to do (and still do). It didn’t stop me from finishing a half marathon in December 2024 and it certainly wouldn’t stop me competing in Hyrox this year!

Interval runs are one of the best ways to get faster, much like small passion projects can boost the quality of your creative output. Short, sharp bursts of energy between period of rest expands your capacity to endure just about anything.

You gotta have the right fuel

Before my fitness journey, I had no effing idea what the different between protein, fats and carbs were. For real, how did I not retain or learn any of the information at school? The reality: we’re not taught how to properly fuel our bodies.

Luckily with the support of BodyFit Training Vic Market and Clarifit coach Angus John, I learned how to prepare my body for intense exercise AND what it needs to recover fully afterwards.

In your creative life, this looks like increasing the quality of your inputs. Swap out endless hours of doom scrolling for reading a book. Switch up sitting around at a bar with going to an art gallery or gig. Absorb big ideas and your thought will expand.

But just like the food you put in your body, it has to be in the right combination and right amount. So for every piece of content you consume, create two things in return. Watch what happens when you shift from consumption to creation (imposter syndrome often evaporates along with it!).

You gotta learn how to (actively) rest

As I mentioned, the two days prior to Hyrox I spent in full potato mode. What does that look like? It’s me, in bed or on the couch, doing sweet F.A.

Similarly, the two days after Hyrox, my legs decided to turn into concrete blocks, so I had to navigate the joys of DOMS while trying to recover. Day one was gentle walking, day two involved a trip to a bathhouse for hot/cold plunges and day three I did some yoga.

Active rest is key to encouraging your muscles to chill out after a big event, much like daily journaling is for me to maintain a connection to my creativity. It’s a practice that’s low effort but high reward as it clears out the cobwebs everyday and massages my nervous system at the same time.

Rest isn’t just about doing nothing. Rest restores and rebuilds as much as it rejuvenates.

Yes, you can be a gym girlie and an Artist

Don’t let anyone tell you that the activities that make you feel most like ‘you’ aren’t meant to coexist.

You are all the things you love to do, hate to do and haven’t yet discovered.

What matters is how you feel.

Creatively yours,

Dr Maz xoxo

PS: For those who are curious, I finished Hyrox in 1:46! I am beyond proud of that time and can’t wait to test myself again before the year is out. Thought next time I’ll definitely make sure I train more specifically for it (particularly those pesky wall balls!).