I love being a mother. I think it's the best thing I've ever

Hear the tender yet powerful words of Kate Bush, visionary artist and singer, who declared: “I love being a mother. I think it's the best thing I've ever done, and I personally feel that it's had a very positive effect on my work. I think it's an encouraging force for creativity, it feeds creativity—it did for me, certainly.” In this confession, she reveals a truth that echoes through the ages: that motherhood, far from hindering the spirit, can awaken within it new depths of vision, energy, and inspiration. For in nurturing life, one discovers the essence of creation itself.

The origin of this thought lies in Bush’s own journey as an artist who withdrew from the public eye to devote herself to raising her son. Many believed such a choice would dim her creative flame, but in truth it strengthened it. She returned to her craft not diminished, but enriched, for in the act of mothering she encountered patience, wonder, vulnerability, and love in their purest forms. These experiences did not steal her artistry—they fed creativity, weaving into her songs and stories the tenderness and depth that only lived experience can provide.

History offers us many examples of this union between motherhood and creativity. Consider Sophia Tolstaya, wife of Leo Tolstoy, who not only bore thirteen children but also copied by hand, multiple times, the massive manuscript of War and Peace. Her role as mother and partner gave her profound insight into the struggles of family life, which she poured into her own diaries and stories, writings that remain a treasure of Russian literature. Her motherhood did not silence her creativity—it nourished it, shaping her voice and giving it substance.

At its heart, Bush’s words stand against a false belief long held by society—that motherhood limits ambition, that to create life is to surrender the power to create art, work, or greatness. She declares the opposite: that to mother is to gain new wells of inspiration, for the act of raising a child is itself a profound act of artistry. It is shaping, guiding, imagining futures, nurturing potential—these are the same forces that drive music, poetry, invention, and philosophy. In motherhood, creation takes on flesh, and thus all other forms of creation are enriched by its lessons.

Her saying also speaks to the transformative power of love. To love unconditionally, to see the world anew through a child’s eyes, to endure sleepless nights and endless trials—these experiences strip away the trivial and sharpen the soul’s awareness of what truly matters. Such love becomes a furnace, burning away vanity and leaving only what is essential. From such a furnace arises art and work that carries not only skill but truth, not only craft but soul. This, perhaps, is why Bush could say motherhood had a “positive effect” on her work—it made it truer, more deeply connected to life itself.

The lesson for us is profound: do not see roles of care and nurture as burdens that detract from your creativity or purpose, but as sources of strength. Whether through motherhood, fatherhood, or any act of caring for others, you are drawn closer to the mystery of creation itself. To give life, to guide another, is to tap into the wellspring that feeds all art, all invention, all wisdom.

Practically, this means embracing the seasons of your life rather than fearing them. Do not believe that love, family, or sacrifice must diminish your dreams. Instead, see them as soil in which your creativity can grow richer and deeper. Write from the heart shaped by care. Paint from the soul stretched by sacrifice. Sing from the love that has burned you and remade you. These experiences are not obstacles—they are your greatest teachers.

So let us take to heart the wisdom of Kate Bush: “Motherhood feeds creativity.” For in the ancient rhythm of nurturing and creating, of sacrifice and love, the human spirit finds its fullest voice. To mother is to create life itself—and from that act, every other act of creation draws new power. Let this truth guide us: that the greatest art is not always made apart from life’s responsibilities, but through them, because of them, and in harmony with them.