Our society suffers from a strange problem:

We value art and creativity, but we see it as a kind of privilege, something that belongs to “talented” people. The rest of us need to focus on our 9-5’s, side hustles, kids, and dogs. Oh and housework, if we can fit it in.

It doesn’t help that crushing expectations when it comes to how we work, parent, and even spend our “free time” make it difficult to explore our creative sides. And creativity herself is a demanding mistress — she needs our time and undivided attention.

Even if you agree, you may wonder how to balance creative downtime with the other things in your life. Parents, especially mothers face impossible expectations far too often.

This reality isn’t inevitable, though. If our spirits suffer from not having enough creative time, we can and we must make the time. For our sakes and those we love, who presumably love us too.

We Are All Called to Creative Work

In her essay Of Power and Time, the poet Mary Oliver gives this stunning, almost defiant explanation for why she makes creative work a priority:

It is six A.M., and I am working. I am absentminded, reckless, heedless of social obligations, etc. It is as it must be. The tire goes flat, the tooth falls out, there will be a hundred meals without mustard. The poem gets written. I have wrestled with the angel and I am stained with light and I have no shame. Neither do I have guilt. My responsibility is not to the ordinary, or the timely. It does not include mustard, or teeth. It does not extend to the lost button, or the beans in the pot. My loyalty is to the inner vision, whenever and howsoever it may arrive. If I have a meeting with you at three o’clock, rejoice if I am late. Rejoice even more if I do not arrive at all.

Oliver’s words are almost scandalous to our Instagram-era standards. Ignore a flat tire? Forget a dental appointment? Who does that?

“An eccentric artist, that’s who,” one might grumble. But we run into a chicken-versus-egg question here: Did Mary Oliver diss housework and social obligations because she was a brilliant poet? Or was she a brilliant poet because she learned how to diss housework and social obligations?

Before you write off her opinions as extreme, consider this warning she ends with:

There is no other way work of artistic worth can be done. And the occasional success, to the striver, is worth everything. The most regretful people on earth are those who felt the call to creative work, who felt their own creative power restive and uprising, and gave to it neither power nor time. ¹

Not all of us are called to be Pulitzer Prize-winning poets and bestselling authors, but each of us is called to some kind of creative work. It may be an obsession we are drawn to with a single mind. It may be an interest in experimenting and playing with different outlets.

What matters isn’t what the creative calling is. It’s that we recognize and heed the call. How, what, and when is up to us. There will always be cavities to fill and meals to plan, but our time is limited.

Do we want to risk regret in our old age because we confused the urgent with the truly important?

“Art Before Dishes”: A Liberating Mantra

Even if we recognize the need to nurture our creative sides, how do we figure out where it goes in the totem pole of our many priorities?

It’s not an easy question and if you really want advice I will say this: people matter more than things. Put things at the bottom of the list, below people and your creative calling.

The late Susan O’Malley, an artist from the Bay area, interviewed over 100 subjects aged 7-88 for a book she wrote right before her untimely death. The title of the book was Advice From My 80-Year-Old Self; in it are pithy slices of life advice from each interviewee, usually no more than a few words long. One of the shortest and most memorable is “Art before dishes” (from “Lea”, age 65). ²

I love this mantra because it’s both a profound truth and an actionable piece of advice. Spouses, parents, children, friends, and pets can be complicated. Dinnerware, not so much. Ten minutes to yourself, working on your creative calling, is more important than a clean sink.

It’s Not Selfish to Be Self-Indulgent

The problem with not making time for creative development is that it’s easy to make excuses.

I suspect at least one reason for this is that creative work is hard; it may look romantic when we see “experts” busy at their easel or computer, but anyone who’s tried writing a story, painting an artwork, or learning a dance routine knows that it’s one of the most demanding things a person can do. As a result, we become discouraged and fearful of trying at all.

Because art (creativity) is demanding, it quite requires time. And because it requires time, it feels “selfish”; no wonder many of us would rather do the dishes. Washing dishes is mundane, it’s repetitive, but at least it’s safe and “productive.” It’s remarkable what half-truths (and untruths) we tell ourselves.

The famous choreographer Twyla Tharp notes that one of our biggest fears when it comes to being creative is that it’s “self-indulgent.” She turns this fear on its head:

So? How often do you indulge yourself? Why shouldn’t you? You won’t be of much value to others if you don’t learn to value yourself and your efforts.” ³

We may think we’re being more virtuous and contributing more to the world when we vacuum all the floors or sit quietly in the corner, applauding others. What we don’t consider is that we are depriving others of our talents — talents they don’t have.

The writer Julia Cameron makes this very clear in words I’m sure Mary Oliver would agree with:

An artist must have downtime, time to do nothing. Defending our right to such time takes courage, conviction, and resiliency. Such time, space, and quiet will strike our family and friends as a withdrawal from them. It is. For an artist, withdrawal is necessary. Without it, the artist in us feels vexed, angry, out of sorts. If such deprivation continues, our artist becomes sullen, depressed, hostile. We eventually became like cornered animals, snarling at our family and friends to leave us alone and stop making unreasonable demands.” ⁴

If you struggle with feeling “selfish” about making time for yourself and your creative growth, consider how useful of a friend or family member you are when you’re crabby, exhausted, or resentful. Or when you have no new thoughts to share because you didn’t give your mind room to rest, expand, and experiment.

It will require courage and conviction in the beginning if you’re not used to it. If you’re lucky enough to have loved ones who are understanding, they will learn to support you and help you find that precious time alone to heed your creative calling.

And if even that feels impossible right now, remember if nothing else: “Art before dishes.”

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Read Next: Octavia Butler and the Power of “Positive Obsession” →

1. Oliver, M. (2016). Upstream: Selected essays. Penguin Books.
2. O’Malley, S. (2016). Advice from my 80-year-old self: Real words of wisdom from people ages 7 to 88. Chronicle Books.
3. Tharp, T. (2009). The creative habit: Learn it and use it for life. Simon & Schuster.
4. Cameron, J. (2002). The artist’s way. TarcherPerigee.