Right Brains Love A Snow Day
Right Brains Love A Snow Day
Last week, we had a snow day. Not just a bit of slippy ice but a proper can't-move-the-car, no-chance-of-getting-to-school, thank-God-we-went-shopping-already kind of snow day. At least two feet of snow and precipitation still falling.
So after a lazy lie-in followed by a bit of sledging and snow angels, the kids and I snuggled under our biggest blanket with a mountain of snacks and watched back-to-back DreamWorks movies.
Thanks to my many years experience of being able to block out child-related noises (whining, squabbling, tinny music... you know the kind of thing) I was able to perch a giant sketchbook on the arm of the sofa and doodle out a few ideas, I had been desperately trying to generate for the past couple of weeks.
You see, I recently moved out of my home-office into a rented office in a shared building (run by The Message Trust in Sheffield). Somehow, the newly painted, echo-ey, white walls had simply stared back at me when I tried to bounce a few ideas off them. Nor had staring at an empty Word doc on a screen generated any germs of genius.
It was the white blanket of the snow day that finally gave me the space the ideas needed to form. Apparently, a creative idea doesn't like to be squeezed out on a schedule. It doesn't respond well to a 'to-do' list or bossy command. I wonder if ideas are like divas, emerging onto an empty stage with an expectant audience where they know they'll be receive the maximum appreciation?
All I know is that in my office, I switch my left brain on with the computer and once that's engaged, it's hard to switch back over to right brain - the creative one where ideas are born. When I had my office at home, I would sit in the conservatory for creative time then physically switch rooms to the one with computer, to make those ideas reality.
It took a snow day to remind me that my right brain needs space, rest and calm. It loves a snow day!
I wonder if it's the same when I need to hear God? Just a thought.
Joanne Gilchrist is mother of 3 and runs the charity, Ruach Resources, which is the home of God for Kids app and the Animals of Eden Valley children's books. She also wrote the autobiographical "Looking for Love", "Next Steps to Following Jesus" for children and freelances for the SunScool app.
Well that started my Monday morning with a smile and a few chuckles and memories of Kent being snowed in, school abandoned - first as a pupil/student, then as a teacher and the same sense of total joy! I was also amused by the fact that I'm sitting down facing a laptop and will be spending possibly a quite left-brain type of day with Word documents. But surely there's space for a cup of coffee and a right-brain-duvet-sofa-scive? And I quite agree, it's funny how and when the creative invaders make their move...from heaven or from the imagination. Wish it was snowing! Really enjoyable post. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteApologies…I’m anonymous on my laptop for some reason.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the comment - it made me smile in return! What a great way to start the week. :D
DeleteWhat a lovely blog, Joanne. I think because we aren't used to much snow, when we do have some, our right brains go into overload. I wrote a whole novel that was inspired by the falling snow. As the flakes floated and gently landed a concept floated into my right brain. I do think that any change in the normal environment and routine is good for our creativity.
ReplyDeleteVery true. A whole novel? That's some powerful snow!
DeleteA great article. I love the concept of ideas being divas!
ReplyDeleteGlad you liked that! I think I'm a bit of diva at heart so it's an easy metaphor for me to imagine.
DeleteAll true! I chuckled about the blocking out background noise. Yep! Done that for many years. Something completely new can trigger so much creativity. I loved this! And lucky you getting all that snow. We've only had a light dusting to the disgust of the children (teenagers now but they still love snow)
ReplyDeleteThank God for the snow and thanks for this lovely post! Blessings.
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