Some call this Divine Providence, The Law of Attraction, or even The Secret.  Last night I was looking at a rather nebulous thought on writing what it means to be creative and a mother--wisps of ideas like:  it is not binary or dual, they go hand-in-hand, and others floated by.  The most cumulous one involved something about how they are both influenced by the need you had to create before babies and what that looked like. Regardless, I let the ideas float away until this morning, right now, on a chilly gray September morning where an article from The Atlantic offers an explanation of "How Motherhood Affects Creativity." 

Like the water cycle the drops of evaporation rise and the cloud returns, dripping on my head like persistent raindrops until I write it down or get out an umbrella and let it slip away.  This is what my creativity has always looked like--an inkling, an inspiration that drives me to do, to make, to write, unless I don't.  My art isn't driven by what I should do but by how powerful the urge is to do it.