One of my favorite books is The Wisdom of Not Knowing by Estelle Frankel. It’s one I return to again and again, especially when I feel creatively blocked or too much in my head.

Frankel weaves together threads from Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, and myth, but it’s her grounding in Kabbalah that really speaks to me. This beautiful, mystical Jewish tradition that sees wisdom as something that flows from ayin, or nothingness. That idea that true wisdom arises from the void is echoed in the Book of Job: Wisdom [chochmah] emerges from nothingness [ayin]. (Job 28:12)

What strikes me most in Frankel’s writing is her view of creativity. She says it comes when we loosen our grip on the ego and the judging mind. When we stop trying so hard to control the outcome. When we make space. Meditation does that for me sometimes. Thoughts quiet. And in that silence, something unexpected can slip through.

That’s how a recent idea arrived. I was meditating, and suddenly, there they were: Tiger Moths. Bold, patterned, a bit surreal. I don’t know where the image came from. Maybe from all the nature shows I watched as a kid. But in that moment, it felt like the moths had been waiting for me to notice them.

That night, I didn’t overthink it. I didn’t sketch or plan. I just started. I made loose swatches of gouache, rich reds and soft blacks, and then cut the wings freehand. It was messy and intuitive, the way play often is. I let myself be surprised.

And it turned out… okay. Not perfect. But alive.

Frankel writes that too much self-scrutiny shuts creativity down. I get that. When I treat something as a first draft, as a sketch or a gesture, I’m freer. The stakes are lower, and something real can sneak in.

That’s the joy for me. Knowing that the Source, the ayin, is always there. Not in the noise of overthinking, but in the quiet between thoughts. Always ready when I am.