Be the Artist of Your Life
For as long as I can remember, I loved performing. My mom tells the story of me as a child standing in the back seat of the car - long before car seats and seat belt laws - watching myself in the rearview mirror while I sang. Back then, my audience was the very captive members of my family riding in the car with me. I loved being seen, heard, and fully in the moment.
That love of performing followed me into young adulthood. Whether I was Passenger #3 in Anything Goes or Sarah Brown in Guys and Dolls, I loved being on stage. Acting, singing, and dancing. It made me feel alive and deeply connected to the moment.
When that chapter came to close, I didn’t stop performing - I simply changed stages. As a teacher, the classroom became my stage. Every day I was creating – from lessons plans tomeaningful moments of connection with my students. I even found time to sing a few show tunes as I strolled through the rows of my students’ desks. I felt engaged and alive, not because I was performing for approval, but because I was participating fully in my own life.
Over time, though, something shifted.
Life became fuller and more demanding. And without realizing it, I stopped creating as much and started watching more. I stepped off the stage and into the audience. Social media made it easy to observe other people’s lives – I started following “influencers” with beautiful homes, polished routines, and carefully curated moments – all while my own life waited patiently for my attention.
At first, it felt harmless. Even relaxing. But eventually, I noticed a dullness creeping in. A subtle sense of disconnection. When you spend more time observing than expressing, something essential grows quiet. Your inner voice becomes harder to hear, while other people’s voices grow louder.
When you spend your days watching instead of creating, you begin to identify as the audience rather than the artist. Someone who consumes rather than contributes. Someone who witnesses life rather than shapes it.
Being an artist of your life doesn’t require a literal stage. It doesn’t mean being loud or visible. It simply means choosing to participate. To bring intention, presence, and creativity into the ordinary moments of your day.
Creation can be small and quiet. Making a meal with care. Writing a few honest sentences in a journal. Rearranging a space just for fun. Initiating a meaningful conversation. These moments matter because they bring you back into relationship with yourself.
When you create, even in these simple ways, you listen more closely. You feel more deeply. You stop measuring your life against someone else’s highlight reel and start living from the inside out.
This is the difference between being an audience member and being an artist.
The audience member watches from a distance. The artist engages.
The audience member waits for something to happen. The artist makes it happen.
You were never meant to watch your life pass by. You were meant to live it fully.
And the beautiful truth is this: you can step back into that role at any moment - with one small, intentional step back into ownership of your life.
So if you’ve been feeling disconnected, uninspired, or like something is missing, this may be your invitation. Not to do more, but to participate more. To create in the small, meaningful ways that bring you back to yourself.
Your life is not meant to be watched from the sidelines.
It is meant to be lived, shaped, and expressed - one intentional moment at a time.
