A reflection on creative rhythm and learning to trust the way we create.
Creativity doesn’t always move in straight lines. In this thoughtful reflection, Porsha Chalmers explores the beauty of creative rhythm, wandering thoughts, layered process, and learning to trust the way we naturally create. Through personal storytelling and honest insight, she invites readers to reconsider what productivity, focus, and creative practice can truly look like.
A Personal Beginning
If I’m being honest, the way I create didn’t always make sense to me.
I’ve come to understand that my mind carries what’s often called an ADHD or “hunter” way of thinking: a way of noticing everything, following threads, and moving toward what feels alive in the moment. For a long time, I tried to work against that… to be more linear, more structured, more like what I thought creativity was supposed to look like.
But this is the way my mind was built.
I don’t move in straight lines. I move in connections. In circles. In returning.
And once I stopped trying to force a different rhythm, I began to see something I hadn’t noticed before:
Nothing about the way I create is random.
It just takes the long way around to become what it’s meant to be.
Where It Begins
Before we talk about time, we need to talk about how we move through it.
Because if you’re anything like me, creativity doesn’t begin with a plan. It begins with a wandering.
I walk into my studio looking for a paintbrush.
Simple enough.
But then I notice a piece of fabric draped over the chair…
which reminds me of a color I wanted to try…
which leads me to a tray of pigments…
which somehow pulls me into rearranging a corner of the room.
And somewhere in that circling, I forget what I came in for.
Until eventually…
I land right back where I started.
And there it is. The paintbrush.
Not lost. Not forgotten.
Just waiting for me to arrive fully.
A Different Way of Seeing
For a long time, I thought this meant I was distracted.
Unfocused.
Doing it wrong.
But there’s another way to understand this.
Some of us are wired to notice, to scan, to respond to what shifts.
In another time, this kind of awareness wasn’t something to fix.
It was something to trust.
When I look at the way I create… the way I circle my studio, the way everything eventually aligns once I’ve moved through it… I can’t help but think:
Maybe I’m not distracted. Maybe I’m tracking something.
You Are Not Distracted… You Are Aware
If you’re like me, your mind doesn’t move in straight lines.
One idea becomes five… and somehow, after circling through all of them, you land back on the original one… only now it’s deeper, fuller, more alive.
If you’re like me, you don’t stay in one lane.
You move between writing, art, sound, product, experience…
not because you’re scattered,
but because you’re building something that connects.
You’ll have moments where everything locks in…
clear, fast, almost effortless—
where you can see the whole vision at once.
And then there are moments where finishing feels heavier…
where structure asks something different from you.
If you’re like me, you’re not just creating to make something.
You’re creating to make it mean something.
You’re drawn to symbolism, to layering, to the story inside the thing… not just the thing itself.
And you’ll come back to your work, again and again,
not because you’re unsure,
but because each time, you see more.
More detail.
More depth.
More truth.
So no… the work isn’t scattered.
If you’re like me, it’s dimensional.
Creative Time Isn’t Linear
We won’t create the same way every day.
Some days are expansive…
gathering ideas, starting multiple things, feeling lit up.
Other days are quieter…
editing, finishing, letting things settle.
Both are part of the work.
This isn’t inconsistency. It’s rhythm.
Follow the Energy
Traditional time management asks us to follow a schedule.
But this kind of creativity asks something different:
Follow what has energy.
Start where the pull is.
Stay while it’s alive.
Step away when it fades.
This is how my momentum builds…
not from making it happen, but from letting it unfold.
Work in Returns, Not Straight Lines
Long, rigid stretches of focus aren’t always where our best work happens.
Instead, think in returns.
Short, immersive bursts.
A pause.
Then back again.
Like circling.
Like tracking.
Each return carries us deeper.
Nothing Is Wasted
What looks unfinished often isn’t.
It’s in progress… in layers… in waiting.
Ideas aren’t lost.
They’re stored.
And when we come back to them, we bring more of ourselves with us.
If You’re Anything Like Me
If you’re anything like me, you don’t walk straight into your work… you circle it.
You’ve questioned your process…
why it loops instead of lines up,
why it doesn’t always look productive from the outside.
You touch a few things.
You follow a thread.
You gather what you didn’t know you needed.
At first, it can feel random.
But when you step back, there’s a pattern.
You return.
You refine.
You finish what matters.
Just not always in the order you expected.
And somewhere in that returning, something shifts.
You realize this isn’t distraction.
It’s design.
It may not look efficient,
but there is an intelligence in it.
A rhythm that says:
You’re not lost.
You’re arriving.
Maybe This Is the Shift
Maybe it doesn’t need fixing at all.
Maybe the very thing you’ve questioned…
is the thing that’s been guiding you all along.
Not learning how to force ourselves into a different way of working…
but learning how to trust the way we already do.
To stop measuring our process against straight lines, timelines, and expectations that were never built for us…
and start honoring the way we gather, connect, and return.
Because we don’t lose the work.
We circle it.
We carry it.
We come back when we’re ready to see it more clearly.
And every time we return,
we bring something new with us.
More awareness.
More depth.
More truth.
Because we do return.
And maybe this is also where it becomes something more than process.
Maybe this is where it becomes practice.
Because trusting the way we create doesn’t just happen in the work…
it begins in how we arrive to it.
Most days, I don’t begin with a perfect plan.
I begin with a small ritual.
A candle lit.
A quiet thought.
A prayer whispered before anything else asks for my attention.
Coffee or tea warming my hands.
A moment to settle in…
to come back to myself before I ask anything of the day.
And a moment of gratitude…
that I get to do this work at all.
That I get to create, to make, to follow what’s been placed in front of me.
Because there was a time I didn’t know if I would.
And I don’t take that lightly.
Sometimes there’s a list… not as a rule, but as a guide.
Something to come back to after I’ve made my circle through the studio.
And more often than not, I do.
I wander.
I gather.
I return.
And somewhere between the wandering and the returning,
the work begins to take shape.
We Are Not Behind
If you are anything like me…
You are not behind.
You are not too scattered.
You are not doing it wrong.
We are creating in a way that gathers, connects, and deepens over time.
And our work… our art, our voice, our way of seeing…
waits patiently at the center,
until we come back around
and pick it up again.
An Invitation
If this feels familiar to you… I’d love to know.
What does your creative rhythm look like?
Where do you begin, and how do you find your way back?
If this reflection resonated with you, consider subscribing to The Turquoise Iris Journal for more thoughtful stories, creative encouragement, and artist perspectives from around the world.
You can also explore more of Porsha Chalmers’s work, creative practice, and offerings by visiting her website.
