What if family itself is part of our creative body of work? (solo reflection)

I recorded this solo podcast episode at the tail end of a mega-long summer homecoming.

I’d just spent not three, four, or five—but nearly six weeks straight with my family traveling around the U.S.

Kona and Honolulu, Hawaii:

First, we were invited to Hawaii by my amazing aunts, Wendy and Elenor, for an intimate family reunion with two of my cousins, their spouses, and kids. Have you ever been to Hawaii? It was my first time and I found it breathtaking—so geologically diverse, and more remote and exotic than anywhere I’ve ever visited.

We spent ten days as a group of 14—four family units rolled into one—snorkeling, swimming, paddle boarding, playing tennis, lounging, talking, going out to dinners, and taking field trips around the island. It was like family camp in paradise. Saying goodbye was tough, but after nearly two weeks of island life I started feeling a little antsy about being stranded in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, six hours by plane from any major body of land.

Our family conversations took place in settings and situations like this: pausing mid-paddle boarding in the pristine turquoise Hawaiian water.

Los Angeles, CA:

I surprised myself by how relieved I felt when we touched down in LA for the second chapter of our trip.

We spent four days in buzzy, sprawling LA, where we ended up scrapping much of our cultural and social agenda—our European rhythm (and budget!!) just couldn’t keep up with my initial plans. For anyone who hasn’t been to the States in a while, the prices are shocking. And the pace? Everyone seemed to be hustling non-stop to cover mortgages, education, insurance, family expenses. Conversation after conversation circled back to money, work, survival. I didn’t sense much downtime or ease. Everyone kept remarking on how unusual it was for our family to be spending this much time together—on vacation, no less. Didn’t we have to work?

I explained that we weren’t so unusual compared to many folks back in France. That most of the country kind of slows down and heads off somewhere for the summer. That by mid-July we’ve all said goodbye to our friends and flats and don’t plan on seeing them again until the kids go back to school in early September.

I could definitely get used to dining al fresco each day with this view of the Hollywood Hills at our friends’ home in LA.

Brooklyn, Willow and Barryville (upstate New York):

After LA we made a pit stop in Brooklyn—time for bagels, pizza, and a hello to my dad—before we bussed up to upstate New York for nearly three weeks of chill time in the mountains with my mom. That’s where our jet-setting nervous systems finally settled down: BBQs with my mom and her friends, swims in the lake, trips to the mall, some local theatre productions and blockbuster movies. It was easy, calm, restorative. I even finally visited the Zen Mountain Monastery down the road from my mom for a Sunday morning meditation workshop.

Entrance to the main building at the historic Zen Mountain Monastery where I attended a Sunday-morning Zen meditation workshop early August.

So much contact, so much contrast, so much time to observe and unravel during this rare period of the year helped me crystallize a new thought about midlife and creativity: that perhaps our families—not literally, but figuratively—are part of our creative work. They reflect our values, our beliefs, our history (conscious and not), our culture, our playfulness, our risk-taking, our joy, our fears.

And that idea is the jumping-off point for this off-the-cuff, stream-of-consciousness solo reflection, which I recorded on the screened-in porch of the summer home we were renting in the woods down the road from my mom’s house in upstate NY.

The screened-in-porch with the hammock where I did much of my relaxing and ruminating each morning.

In it, I also walk back through the brilliant contributions of my guests this season and bubble up the nuggets that have resonated most with me, including:

• Dr. Galit Atlas on emotional inheritance—and how what we unconsciously carry shapes our daily lives

• Robinne Lee and a workshop I led with one of my besties, sex therapist Dr. Rachel Mark, on fantasy, desire, and how we unintentionally police both

• Liz Kimball
  on why creativity is not a project but a relationship you nurture—and why midlife might be the best time to do it

• Ana Tajder on the creative chapters of a woman’s life, and why staying in touch with your curiosity matters

• Mai Hua
  on emotional fluency as a form of connection and creative power

My Brady-Bunch family of guests & co-hosts who brought their genius to our exploration of midlife creativity so far this season

I’ve decided to keep this theme of midlife creativity going a bit longer since we all seem to be chewing on it still. So think of this solo show not as a closing statement, but as a mid-season reflection on the fascinating theme of midlife creativity.

Please let me know how this episode lands for you.

And if you enjoy it, please share it, comment on it, and leave a little heart under this post. So much love and energy goes into making this content.

Your support—whether in the form of a paid subscription or even a simple like and comment—really keeps the mojo going. I appreciate it all.

Have a wonderful listen and speak soon!

Zeva

PS. You can find the latest episode on the above player or on your favorite podcast platform including Apple, Spotify and Deezer.