Putting the Pieces Together Again

A Missive from the Field: Issue 2, vol. 1

Photo by Niko Nieminen on Unsplash

I’ve known for years that creativity heals. 🌿

I still remember sitting on the creakey piano-stool in front of my Grandmother’s 100-year old Clarendon cabinet grand piano, with the mid-afternoon sunlight slanting in across the pages of the Beethoven sonata on the music stand. Tears stung the corners of my eyes, but I could feel the wearied release of prickly tension as the pounded-out notes faded in the air. Peace welled up from within and I hid in its’ arms.

I was twelve, and somewhere between my determined chutzpah and the complex puzzle of Bach and Tchaikovsky well beyond my skill, wounds that would have drowned me became wells of deep beauty that poured out into every area of my life. Note by note, in each successfully learned refrain, my broken pieces began glueing themselves back together. I was encountering the healing hand of God (long before I truly knew who He was) through my creative expression in real-time as I practiced day after day, songs becoming unspoken prayer, and peace and wholeness returning.

Keeping a sketchbook in some form can be a great way to play and express whatever needs to come out.

Over the years, I’ve seen this play out again and again, from both my own personal testimony as well as that from others. Heartache splashed in crimson across a canvas becomes a breath of fresh air; meter and rhyme hastily scribbled becomes a salve of peace to weary bones. One burgeoning poet I know finds emotional triggers decreasing and being replaced with joy with every word hammered onto the page, and it is beautiful to witness the blossoming of a soul too long in the waiting place.

But many of us continue to struggle. One artisan-that-could-be can’t find anything except twisted up anger simply because every item of beauty he makes isn’t “perfect” or “useful.” He feels his time creating is a waste and hates himself for it.

When we accept our God-given gifts, we begin to come into alignment with His plan, and storehouses of healing and blessing open up to us if we want them. When we don’t use our gifts, or worse, reject our gifts… our lack of expressed artistry can become a cautionary tale.

This is one of the reasons I’m so passionate about teaching others the tools to tap into their inner spark and how to get their creative expression unblocked. When we are children, not a single one of us looks up, bright-eyed, and states “I never want to be creative,” or “I want to stay a broken person.” Such statements would be unthinkable from a child whose very nature is steeped in imagination and dreams and the intrinsic understanding that we are meant to be whole. But yet, far too many of us abandon our creativity early, only to reach adulthood and wonder why we aren’t doing as well as we ought to be.

So, how can we reconnect with our spark?

We begin.

It’s really both that simple and that challenging all at once. We must be willing to try, to experiment, to play again; to show up for ourselves even when no one else can or does. We must be willing to be vulnerable. Your creativity is rather like a wild animal; it cannot be forced, it must be coaxed out from its’ hidey-hole into the open. And, we must simultaneously be gentle with ourselves; none of us gets it right the first time (or the second… or the two hundredth…).

Just begin, with all the enthusiasm a kid can muster.

Newly Released Work 🌱

• A digital repaint of a banner for a Catholic Discord server (artwork pictured above). Fun project as I continue to learn digital illustration, but please utilize real creatives wherever you can. We’d love to help you!

• “Lazarus” (poem, published as “Full-Tilt”) at Spirit Fire Review

• “In the Crossing Season” (poem) in the Fieldmoot: A Feast of Poetry digital chapbook

• “Up the South Fork,” (illustrated poem in zine format) available to purchase and shipping beginning 1 February 2026! I’m quite excited about this — I plan to release several works this year in these homemade print runs. Zines are fabulous! They’re small, easily reproducible, and fun in an old-school artsy way. Buy a few and give them to your friends, drop a copy in your nearest little free library, leave some at the local coffee shop. (If you find one in the wild, snap a pic and send it to me or tag me on Instagram/Substack @bluemtnheather for a newsletter feature!)

The first of much greatness!

And, a short haiku from the archives to share:

Seed pods dangling

Limbs, overwintered and I

Too, am worn colorless.

(penned 22 March 2025 — praise the Lord I am finally coming out of my ‘desert season’)

Onward with Courage… 🌿

Even though I don’t play piano anymore, having moved onto other arts that resonate more deeply with my soul, I remain profoundly grateful for the lessons I learned on that rickety old piano stool. Life may be messy, but creativity can meet you there, just as Jesus does. All we have to do is be willing to be there, too.

May you find your ‘piano stool’ place this week,
❦ Heather

---

**If you enjoyed this newsletter, please consider checking out some of my other work. 🌿