The Next Upgrade
Finding inspiration in what we already have
The message I received in church today wasn’t the one I was expecting.
Have you ever noticed that we live in a world always waiting for the next upgrade?
The next phone.
The next version.
The next improvement.
The next thing that promises to make life just a little better than it is right now.
For a moment, my mind wandered to my work life. It reminded me of my years in education, when I was always looking for the next school — the one with the better curriculum, the bigger paycheck, the promise that maybe things would be easier there.
And if I’m being honest, that same mindset has followed me into my narration career.
The next publisher to sign me.
The next author who might discover my voice.
The next book waiting in the queue.
Last year I set a goal to stay booked week after week. And for the most part, I was. It was a good year for narration.
But when the preacher talked about our culture constantly waiting for the next upgrade, my mind didn’t stay on career for very long.
It wandered somewhere else entirely.
My art practice.
The shelves of supplies.
The excitement of new materials.
The quiet habit of waiting for the next burst of inspiration to arrive.
And while I’m fairly certain this wasn’t the exact direction the preacher intended for our thoughts to go, that message landed squarely in the middle of my creative life.
Which makes sense, I suppose.
Creativity is such a large part of who I am.
And if I’m being honest… artists are not immune to the upgrade mindset.
New paints.
New brushes.
New journals.
New techniques.
New tools that promise new inspiration.
I love trying new materials. Truly. Curiosity is part of the creative life. Exploring new mediums and approaches can open doors we didn’t know were there.
But if I pay attention — really pay attention — I notice something.
I always come back to the same source of inspiration.
Nature.
The shape of a branch.
The color of moss.
The way light moves across water.
The quiet miracle of something blooming where yesterday there was only dirt.
This morning, sitting there in the pew, my mind wandered beyond the church walls and into the soft beginning of spring.
And I felt something simple.
Gratitude.
Not for a new tool or a new technique, but for the beauty that already exists all around me.
In my own small and perhaps slightly sideways interpretation of the sermon, I realized something: I don’t actually need an upgrade to create something meaningful today. I can find contentment with where I am at the very moment with what I have.
So I grabbed my favorite supply. Simple watercolor pencils, a sketchbook, and a water brush. Without much thought, a spring tulip appeared on the page not long after.
Lesson learned.
The world is already full of wonder.
The leaves will unfold soon.
The birds are returning.
The air is warming.
And if I have a pencil… a scrap of paper… a brush with a little paint left in it… that is more than enough.
I also couldn’t help but feel grateful that this particular message landed in my ears in the early days of spring.
Because if someone had said the same thing to me in the depths of February, when the Ohio sky was gray and the ground felt as if it would be frozen forever, I might not have received it quite so enthusiastically.
But today?
Today the earth itself seems to be reminding us that renewal doesn’t come from upgrades.
It comes from returning.
Returning to the light.
Returning to the soil.
Returning to the quiet joy of making something with our own hands.
And so when I got home, I did the simplest thing I could think of.
I gathered a few ordinary materials.
Nothing fancy.
Just enough to capture a little Spring Color.
Because today I am creating not because I have the perfect supplies…
but because I have joy in my heart for the beauty that surrounds me.
Then my husband and I went for a nice hike in the woods. And guess what?
Little signs of Spring are popping up everywhere.
Into Your Hands: A cozy Invitation to Create
Step outside for five quiet minutes.
Look for one small detail in the natural world that catches your attention — a leaf, a cloud pattern, the texture of bark, the color of the sky.
Return to your workspace and create something inspired by that single observation.
Use whatever materials you already have.
No upgrades required.
Follow the Spark
If this simple exercise feels good, try exploring it further:
• Create a series of “found inspiration” sketches over the next week.
• Limit yourself to three materials you already own.
• Make one small piece each day based on something you notice outdoors.
• Let curiosity guide you, not perfection.
Sometimes the most powerful inspiration isn’t something new.
Sometimes it’s simply noticing what has been there all along.
The world may be chasing the next upgrade.
But the creative life often begins the moment we realize… what we already have is enough.
With a Satisfied Heart,
Jenn