Welcome Home: Weaving Slow Magic & Midlife Renewal
- tamimachnai
- May 18
- 10 min read
Updated: Jul 16
For ten years, my inner artist remained silent; today, I am finding my voice again. A decade of creative dormancy has finally come to an end.
Throughout this time, I didn't express or create what longed to emerge from within. It's not that I didn't want to. I did! I felt desire and drive, dreams and yearning burning inside me with passion. But there was also another force at work, an inner struggle between two distinct voices.
One voice overflowed with ideas seeking expression – a voice that naturally wants to create. A voice carrying a deep longing for creation that grew stronger with each passing year. A voice urging to create a HUB of presence and contemplation, a tangible space for things that need to be said, written, sung; a part of me yearning to bring forth its own channel of expression.
Yet equally persistent was the other voice. When words would merely begin to form, something would hold me back, and a skeptical, chilling voice would whisper: "Who are you anyway? Who are you to write, to speak out, to share what you see and feel?"
The Silencing Voice: Who Are You to Write?
Perhaps you know this voice too: the cruel, controlling, limiting one. Always on guard, pouncing from every corner where a thought or idea might emerge. Blocking every path you take, tirelessly piling up all possible reasons and beliefs for "why not" – especially those related to impostor syndrome.
The stronger and more passionate my desire for expression grew – the more my body, my hands, and above all my mind, fortified their resistance. As if they had received secret orders not to cooperate. The mere thought of exposing my words to light felt more threatening than I could have imagined.
Time and again, I entered a losing battle searching for inner permission and justification – for my creativity, my writing, my expression. The tormenting question would surface repeatedly: What could be your unique, personal, distinctive contribution? Something not yet said, something truly authentic? Somewhere inside, I could feel the creative voice, the wanting voice, strong and valuable, but I couldn't allow myself to let it be heard. I was defeated again and again. I held tight to the impostor syndrome and the self-imposed shackles of inaction.
It was the way I imagined the magnitude of the task that defeated me. Ideas would emerge, and they were wonderful: for beginnings, for topics, for subjects I was studying, for songs. Like stubborn children wanting to play, thoughts would flash, yearning for expression – only to receive a quick slap on the wrist, pushing them back inside with a kind of shame, met with the harsh command "DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT" – this is too big for you, you're not entitled to this, this isn't meant for you.
To a great extent, that restraining, stern, controlling voice managed everything during those years.
The Big Magic That Changed Everything
Seven years ago, I encountered—rather, not by chance (nothing is ever by chance)—Elizabeth Gilbert's book Big Magic, and it profoundly affected me. Something in her perception of the creative process touched me in a way that illuminated everything I thought I knew in an entirely new light. Gilbert offered a different path in how she approached the natural expression of creativity and art in humans. Instead of struggle or competition, she suggests conversation and partnership – a dialogue with life itself, with ideas seeking to manifest through us, and a partnership between us and the creative insights that reach us in fascinating, even mysterious ways.
During my walks, I would listen to the book again and again (being an audiobook enthusiast). Each listening opened new spaces of possibility within me, inviting me to meet the essence of creativity in a completely different way than I had known before. The book as a whole gave me an entirely new perspective on how I viewed the creative experience.
More than that – it touched me on deep levels: it comforted me, made me smile, brought me to tears. It allowed so many pieces to fall into place, and most importantly – it allowed me to begin moving toward deep inner acceptance. As I listened and absorbed, as joy and excitement welled up within me – I began to open up. I could feel a tangible closeness to playing with the creative ideas I had dreamed of. They began to take real form and substance.
But just then, MIDLIFE CRISIS crashed into my life with a bang, and the universe said: NOT YET….
When the Body Feels Like a Traitor
Midlife transition caught me unprepared, as it does many women. Without any prior preparation or awareness, I found myself confronting a new belief that I was entering a phase where regression was the sole governing energy. The future, which only moments ago had seemed promising, began to appear like a steep, dark descent.
I assumed a kind of role, a persona – the midlife woman, "the aging one," she whose body betrays her, who finds herself in the cruel phase of her life. "That's it," said the sarcastic voice, "the party's finally over. You had dreams, but now it's too late to fulfill them. Time to face the grim news – you'll never be young again."
Not surprisingly, that hope and momentum that had begun stirring in me through my encounter with Gilbert's book were pushed aside. This phase of my life awakened an unconscious sense of shame I experienced difficult and even alarming physical changes that at the time I couldn't yet attribute or understand – transformations that contracted me and left me feeling primarily insecurity, worthlessness, helplessness, and shame. My encounter with myself through this new age was a meeting of a different kind, and I experienced it as unfair and cruel.
Within this complexity unfolded a gradual separation process from my husband of 22 years. Despite creating a positive, respectful, and friendly process, it was still a separation from a shared family unit and long-held desires that I was choosing to let go.
Weaving Wings: Rebirth in Midlife
During this past year, I reached a point where the desire to travel far, to isolate myself and disconnect for an entire year burned within me with intensity – I yearned for my own private "Eat, Pray, Love": to write, to wander, and to find my way back home, to myself. But reality didn't permit this, neither physically nor financially.
And so it happened that I created for myself a kind of cocoon – you might say I imposed silence upon myself. I built boundaries for protection, distance, and most importantly, for redefining myself. Like nature drawing inward during winter, I too retreated within myself.
My pause was long and deeply introspective... I experienced something beyond my control. Above all, it was a response and surrender to an inner calling, one that carried deep truth and quiet understanding: not to argue, but simply to yield.
During this cocooned period, it wasn't easy to observe myself from the outside. I experienced myself as somewhat harsh, laconic, cold – completely opposite to the soft, warm, social, open, and intimate feminine figure that was also part of me – but she didn't want to show herself at this stage.
It took far more than intellectual agreement to surrender to this deep process of renewed friendship with parts of myself that had been hidden for too long.
The distance that formed from things so dear to me – music, dance, singing, deep connection to nature and plants, to journeys and travels in places that elevated my soul and imagination, and love for a man – all these were absent from my life for too long. Yet my soul remembered them WELL and knew they had never truly left me. We hadn't really disconnected, hadn't parted, just drifted slightly apart...
I began to feel an intense longing for something that was part of me, for the part that had always been there but had closed off and distanced itself – in fact, had been distanced from me by myself. I felt how much I missed... me.
This arose powerfully in dreams, intensified through certain music, certain sights, certain frequencies, especially when I was alone with myself. I felt how much I had reached the end of my rope. I found myself escaping into numerous books and films about beloved places and nature. I dreamed of traveling to them, especially to England.
The Music in Silence
Have you ever pondered how we would hear musical sounds without the pauses between them? In essence, what we would hear would be an indistinct cluster of tones, a directionless, characterless cacophony... a mere mass.
The pauses in music – known as rests – are not empty spaces; they are equal in value to the notes themselves. Without them, music would become formless noise. We are able to hear music because of these spaces. They are both the rest and what allows music to be music.
I learned that like in music, life's pauses are not empty spaces, but rather the breath of creation – the place where meaning becomes clear, where life renews itself, where we find ourselves anew. And sometimes, the greatest beauty lies precisely in the silence. In that quiet, when external noise fades away, we can finally hear our inner melody – the voice that was always there, quiet and clear, waiting patiently for us to choose to listen.
In this long pause, as if in an echo chamber, I began to discern the gentle voices that were always there: the whisper of intuition, the quiet wisdom of the body, awakening worlds of imagination, dreams and stories wanting to find their voice. I began to truly hear the unique melody that only I could play and create – the beauty within me.
Having Tea with Fear
I turned to converse with myself, and especially with fear. I agreed to sit beside it – I felt it demanded its place. As I agreed to accept it, I also managed to draw closer to it. I sought to understand what it needed from me.
After some time passed, I discovered that part of me that sought to deeply explore my personal artistic expression – a part burning to understand my most specific, individual formula. A voice searching with uncompromising honesty: How do I do this my way? What is my unique path?
The yearning for self-expression evolved into an inner necessity, an insistent voice that couldn't be ignored. From this commitment to authenticity, I had to accept, without judgment, many truths about myself: I am slow, thorough, fiercely individualistic, needing solitude to connect with myself, and to heal, create, and grow stronger – I need many layers of understanding – and I must honor them.
Gradually, I came to a deep understanding that ultimately, no one truly cares what I do or don't do in my life, for better or worse – while I, my soul, my entire being, suffer deeply when not creating, not "speaking," not present.
I began to view more lightly the natural, basic, and existential human desire to create, and above all – the importance of creativity for my mental and inner wellbeing. Creation became my path to inner connection and renewal, a channel through which my vitality finds expression.
Soul Awakening: Journey to the Authentic Heart
It took considerable time until I truly agreed to listen, to understand from within that there is deep wisdom in slowing down, in intentional slowness. In a gentle movement, almost imperceptible, between sounds and silence, between action and rest, between expression and listening – I am learning to listen to this timing, to honor it, to let it guide me. Like an outstretched hand from a loving voice saying: "It's alright, you can touch, you can feel, and you can simply be yourself."
My healing process was, and still is, a journey of small and gentle steps: buds of dance wanting to be danced, art wanting to be revealed, asking to be discovered. All these waited patiently within me until I finally "gave myself permission" to create again.
Sometimes creating a composition takes time, and it's precisely the chaos in the process that is a treasure in itself. The waiting, the doubts, the many directions, the trial and error, the connections and unravelings – these are the resources within chaos. Don't fear them; agree to meet them with curiosity and openness.
Start from the simplest place: sit with music you love (you'll recognize it by how it resonates deep within), or with a journal, canvas and brush, watercolors, embroidery – whatever sparks your curiosity. Start anywhere, and let words, ideas, thoughts, and sketches flow. This is your dialogue with yourself.
Beyond the Mist: Creating Reality from Dreams
If you're expecting a promise of fairy-tale living or an escape from daily realities, this isn't that kind of spaceAs someone deeply grounded in reality, I balanced my solitude with life's practical demands and family responsibilities
Yet, this is precisely the space where we can explore together the deep meaning of being a woman at this stage of life, understanding that we've reached a rich phase of opportunity – time to awaken, to meet ourselves anew, and finally express who we truly are.
Together we'll embark on a journey through worlds of aesthetics and art, like the aesthetics of Cottage Core and Hygge – not merely as design styles, but as life philosophies that honor our natural rhythm and our deep connection with nature, and our love for simple and authentic beauty.
Let's view midlife through a new lens - not as a crisis but as renewal, not as an ending but a beginning. We'll share knowledge that will free us from limiting myths, and together discover the power inherent in this period. We'll connect to deep feminine wisdom through the voices of writers, scientists, and inspiring women. We'll set aside limiting myths and societal beliefs about this age, and discover new ways to experience it in all its beauty, strength, and wisdom.
Looking inward, I discover that my journey isn't focused on accumulating achievements, but on connection. Deeper connection to myself, to the present moment, to the softness within me. My experience is just one example, and I'm certain each of you has your own unique story.
The beauty in this stage of life lies in quietly releasing the need to be someone else – in the freedom to finally listen to our natural rhythm and the inner wisdom we've gathered along the way. There's no need to fight, no need to push. Just to be. To breathe. To feel, to create.
I invite you to join me on this journey. Not to change, but rather to stop fighting who you are. Instead, let's begin to celebrate our unique path, our rhythm, to feel each moment as it is. Every moment is an opportunity for renewal, every breath an invitation to compassion. And beauty? It's always here, waiting for us to choose to notice it.
Perhaps this is our time to listen. Truly. Gently. Without judgment. Our time to simply... be.
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