I played piano my entire childhood. Weekly lessons, daily practice, years of recitals where I sat on a bench in patent leather shoes and proudly played the classical pieces I’d spent weeks memorizing. I was never a prodigy, but I was consistent, and by the time I got to high school, I was actually pretty good.
And then I just… stopped. At the time, it felt like freedom from the chains of daily practice, and the demands of my high school dance team left little room for other activities. But what I couldn’t foresee at age 15 was that abandoning this outlet for personal expression would leave a hole that couldn’t be filled by more “productive” pursuits. And since my piano skills quickly got very rusty, I really haven’t played since.
That was over twenty years ago, and lately, I keep finding myself browsing keyboards online at 11 pm—the way you do when something is quietly knocking on the door of your desires. I mentioned it to my mom recently, and without hesitation, she declared, “You should definitely get one.”
My mom is one of the most creative people I know. She reads poetry, knits gorgeous pieces for her kids and grandkids (and even our friends’ kids!). She gardens with an instinctive sense of what belongs together—neighbors stop all the time and ask to take photos of her front yard. She bakes croissants and creates everyone’s dream birthday cakes.
Her mother—my grandmother, Nana—had a different creative signature entirely. She wasn’t as traditionally domestic, but she had incredible style. Effortlessly elegant, she dressed in casual neutrals, often with a safari or military bent. There was nothing performative about it—in fact, I used to laugh about Nana’s closet full of white shirts and khaki pants, not knowing that one day she’d be one of my style icons.
Now at age 41, I can feel the lineage of women with a creative spirit (I didn’t get to meet my great-grandmother, but my mom has told me about her love of art, poetry, and music). They understood (though they never had to articulate) that creativity wasn’t a career path or a content strategy or a thing you did to be seen. It was simply how you found joy in the world around you.
I didn’t realize until recently how much I’d drifted from that.
Over the past couple of years, I’ve found myself devouring everything I can learn about feminine energy—that intuitive energy that exists in all of us. It’s a creative force that prioritizes being over doing, flow state rather than strict structure. Now I realize I’ve been drawn to it because I want more of it in my life. It’s the opposite of the hustle culture that most of us absorbed somewhere along the way, the one that says your creativity is only worth something if it’s going somewhere.
For the last several years, so much of my creativity has been channeled into work. Which sounds like a blessing—and I don’t take it for granted that I get to do what I love for a living. But somewhere along the way, something shifted.
My writing became content. My photos became assets. My ideas became posts. And when every creative act is also a professional output, you start subtly measuring your work by how it lands. The likes. The saves. The algorithm deciding whether what you made was worth being seen.
And if I’m being completely honest, I let that feedback loop tell me something about my worth. Not consciously, or even in ways I’d have admitted. But there was a deflation that would show up when something underperformed—it wasn’t really about the post.
What I understand now, as part of an ongoing journey, is this: when all of my creativity became content, I lost the part of myself that fueled the process in the first place. The making-for-the-sake-of-making. The following an idea just to see where it goes. The writing that has no destination. The photos no one will ever see.
And that’s what my mother, and my grandmother, and my great-grandmother always had. For years, when my mom would finish knitting some chic beret or a gorgeous textured scarf, we’d all say, “People would buy that, you should sell these!” But she knew: the moment that her knitting turned into something with an end goal, she’d lose a bit of the joy that came from making it in the first place. She wasn’t knitting to produce, she was doing it for enjoyment and aliveness.
It’s not a coincidence that the best things I’ve ever written arrived when I wasn’t trying to manufacture them—on walks, in the early morning quiet, in that space between asleep and awake. In The Creative Act, Rick Rubin writes that artists are essentially conduits, that the work arrives when we’re paying enough attention to receive it. When we create from that receptive place of listening, we’re participating in something that goes beyond us. We’re not generating the work so much as we’re getting quiet enough to hear God speak and allow it to come through. I feel it most often when I’m journaling. The times when I think I have nothing to write about, and 20 minutes later, there’s something on the page that I didn't even know was inside of me.
So this spring, that’s what I’m reclaiming.
I’ve been spending less time on my phone, which keeps proving the same thing: more space offline means more presence and more of that quiet where ideas can actually arrive. I’ve been getting creative in the kitchen again—not just following a recipe but treating it as a jumping-off point, toasting and grinding spices, adding handfuls of herbs, taking five extra minutes to plate something beautifully, even when it’s just for me. I’ve been doing new things I’m genuinely not good at—film photography, watercoloring, and maybe surfing again this summer—because there’s something about beginner’s mind that cracks you open in the best way.
And yes, I’m still looking at keyboards online.
So, Happy Mother’s Day to all of you who are mothering something—children, businesses, gardens, friendships, ideas, and creative dreams you haven’t quite stepped into yet. The things you make just for the love of it are leaving a mark. Someone's watching you and quietly taking notes. And they may not understand it until many years later.
A few things I’ve been wanting to share with you:
I’m hosting an elevated garage sale at my house next weekend, and there’s going to be SO much good stuff—Austin friends, mark your calendars:
Casa Zuma + Camille's Closet Sale
Saturday May 16th
8 am - 12 pm
Expect an excellent edit of like-new items from my closet, handbags, shoes, TONS of unopened wellness and luxury beauty products, Casa Zuma samples, home decor, coffee table books, cookbooks, the list goes on.
The Creative Path with poet David Whyte. My friend Kate and I are going through this virtual course together—sessions are recorded if you want to join us. And if you haven’t read Whyte’s work before, start here. It’ll reframe the way you think about creativity and the creative life.
My Husband’s Wife, by Alice Feeney. I love a good thriller, and this one is about a woman who comes home from a run, and finds everything turned upside down. Her key doesn’t fit in the lock. A woman (who looks almost just like her) answers the door. And her husband insists that the stranger is his wife. I have no idea what’s going to happen and I can’t put it down.
Free Me From Me, by Ryan Wekenman (one of the pastors at our church in Austin). It’s all about how self-care and wellness culture can lead to self-obsession, which is ultimately a trap that leaves us feeling lost and unfulfilled. When we center our lives around God, we’re free from performing, striving, and constantly having to prove ourselves.
I did extensive research to find the softest, most absorbent towels to stock our beach house (ie. I ordered samples from 5+ retailers to test!) And the winner is? These turkish ultra-plus towels that feel like heaven (I got them all in color “oak.”)
The most perfect pair of relaxed barrel linen pants that I can pull on like sweat pants but feel way more pulled-together than I actually should—a summer must-have.
These watercolor workbooks are a low-stakes creative practice that feels genuinely meditative (and they make such a good gift for the person in your life who wants to be more creative.)
Just when I thought I’d seen every lip product, this Lipid Lip Hydrating Glossy Lip Oil showed up at my door and I can genuinely say I haven’t felt anything quite like it. It makes lips incredibly soft and glossy but without any stickiness—I apply it morning and night and my lips have never been better (along with this radiance oil for a fully glowy routine.)
I’ve entered my washable rug era, so I was excited to discover Tumble’s wide assortment of pretty rugs that are basically spill-proof and very pet and kid-friendly. A few favorite neutrals that look way more expensive than they actually are: Olivia, Lisa, and Canyon.
Per many of your recommendations, we’ve now gone back to Season 1 of The Parisian Agency, and it does not disappoint. Let’s see how long it takes me to binge my way through the next 5 seasons.
I went with my mom and sister to see The Devil Wears Prada 2, and I enjoyed it way more than I was expecting. It was fun and lighthearted (I laughed out loud multiple times), and the wardrobe is great. And speaking of fashion movies, I’m also very much looking forward to this Kate Moss biopic about her mysterious relationship with Lucian Freud… so intrigued.
This strawberry galette is hands-down the best way to make the most of in-season berries (highly recommend with a scoop of vanilla ice cream). Also been really into this salmon & citrus salad, which just feels like spring.
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