Your Creative Pace.
I’ve never been quite sure if I fit the “Type A” label, but I am certainly someone who finds peace in a plan. I strategize my business, I map out my creative studio, and I architect my personal life. As we discussed in our last blog, it can feel heavy when we miss the mark on our goals—but there is an undeniable power in the “brain dump.” There is magic in pouring everything from the mind onto the page to see what the year could be: a pathway that provides a sense of the journey, or the season, I feel my life moving toward.
A few years ago, I began a period of deep reflection on the kind of life I actually wanted. It might sound like an overly spiritual or philosophical approach, but I was genuinely concerned with the “Why.” Why am I an artist? What is my purpose? And more importantly, am I living in alignment with it?
Aside from the annual vision boards and daily journals, I found myself constantly interrogating my identity. On paper, I am an artist, an “artrepreneur,” a founder, a first-generation Ghanaian-American, a Scorpio, and an eldest daughter. The list is long. Yet, even within these roles—some I was born into, others I chose—I often felt lost.
One day, after a heavy sigh and a long writing session, I asked myself a simple question: What makes me truly happy?
The answer has shifted over the years; what matters to me now is vastly different from my younger years. But I began to imagine, and truly document, the life I actually wanted. I dove deeper than a vision board. I wrote until I had a list of every possible thing I have ever wanted.
While that list is personal, I will share one realization: I decided to stop carrying the weight of others’ expectations. I stopped trying to fit into the boxes society—or even my own roles—built for me. I began to consider that I am here, I have my own unique gifts, and I alone am the architect of my experience. No one else has to live in my life but me. So why was I letting anyone else hold the pen?
“Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.”
The best way to honor a big vision is to break it down into “micro-movements”—small, actionable steps. Let’s start with the big question: What have you always wanted for your life? And because we are creators, let’s answer it creatively.
3 Creative Rituals for Designing Your Life
1. Build a “Life Blueprint” Collage.
Design your life the way you’d design a gallery piece. Instead of a “goals” board, think of this as a “feeling” board.
• Materials: A sketchbook, old magazines, printed textures, and glue.
• The Prompt: Create a collage that answers: How do I want my days to feel? What pace do I want to move at? What colors and spaces feel like home to me?
• The Goal: This isn’t about perfection. Let the images contradict each other. Let it be messy. You are designing through intuition, not logic.
2. Write a Letter From Your Future Self
Make time tangible by reaching forward.
• Materials: Pen, paper, an envelope, and a stamp.
• The Prompt: Write a letter from yourself, one year in the future. Describe a typical Tuesday. What did you protect this year? What did you finally let go of? What surprised you?
• The Goal: Mail it to yourself or seal it for a year. You are using narrative—one of our oldest creative tools—to manifest your reality.
3. Curate a “Life Objects” Shelf
Design your life using physical anchors.
• Materials: 3–5 small objects you already own.
• The Prompt: Choose objects that represent your core values: Rest, Curiosity, Stability, Play, or Growth. Place them on a dedicated shelf or tray. Whenever you have a decision to make, look at these objects and ask: Does this choice belong on this shelf?
• The Goal: Your design becomes embodied. It’s no longer just an idea; it’s a physical presence in your room.
Designing a life doesn’t happen through a single, dramatic reinvention. It happens through small, repeated choices that honor who you are becoming. When you treat your life like a creative practice, the work becomes less about chasing outcomes and more about building trust with yourself.
A collage, a letter, a single object on a shelf—these aren’t just symbolic gestures; they are starting points. From here, the next step doesn’t need to be bold; it only needs to be honest.
As Rainer Maria Rilke reminds us: “Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves.” Patience isn’t passive. It is the steady, beautiful choice to keep showing up for yourself, gently, again and again.