When people think about creativity, they often think about paint, glitter, colouring books or something fun to keep children occupied on a rainy afternoon.

Looking at the photograph below, you might be thinking exactly the same thing.

So what if creativity was so much more than that?

I hope that by the end of this article you'll never look at a paintbrush in quite the same way again.

Over the years I've often noticed that people without a formal education can sometimes feel they know less than those with degrees and qualifications.

Personally, I'm not convinced.

Some of the wisest and most knowledgeable people I've ever met have never stepped foot inside a university. They know how to grow food from almost nothing, understand the behaviour of animals, build beautiful furniture, solve practical problems or create incredible works of art. Their knowledge has simply been gained in a different way.

Human beings are naturally curious.

We are born wanting to explore, question, experiment and make sense of the world around us. Learning didn't begin with classrooms, qualifications or textbooks. It began through experience, relationships, observation and creativity.

I've always loved learning.

I love reading research, exploring different perspectives and asking questions rather than jumping straight to conclusions. Child development has fascinated me throughout my career, both professionally and now as an adoptive mum.

As I began creating resources to support children's emotional wellbeing, I found myself repeatedly coming back to one simple question.

Why does creativity seem to help children in ways that go far beyond producing a picture?

The more I explored the work of influential child psychologists, educators and neuroscientists, the more I realised something remarkable.

Although they each approached child development from different perspectives, many arrived at surprisingly similar conclusions.

Creativity supports thinking.

Creativity strengthens relationships.

Creativity develops confidence.

Creativity provides opportunities for communication.

Creativity helps children make sense of themselves and the world around them.

Perhaps creativity isn't simply something children enjoy.

Perhaps it's one of the oldest and most important ways human beings have always learnt.

Let's begin with one of the most influential developmental psychologists of all time.

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Jean Piaget — Creativity Builds Thinking

Swiss psychologist Jean Piaget transformed our understanding of how children learn.

Rather than believing children simply absorb information from adults, Piaget proposed that children actively construct their understanding of the world through exploration, experimentation and experience. In other words, children aren't empty vessels waiting to be filled with knowledge—they are constantly investigating, questioning and making sense of the world around them.

He believed that children move through different stages of cognitive development, each bringing new ways of thinking and understanding.

For younger children, creativity is inseparable from learning.

The Preoperational Stage (approximately 2–7 years)

This is the stage where imagination flourishes.

Children naturally learn through pretend play, drawing, storytelling, role play and symbolic thinking. A cardboard box becomes a rocket. A painted blob becomes a dinosaur. A handful of sticks become a magical forest.

These moments aren't "just play."

They're opportunities for children to practise language, explore relationships, experiment with ideas and express emotions that they may not yet have the vocabulary to explain.

Creative experiences allow children to represent the world using symbols, pictures and stories long before they can fully explain their thinking with words.

The Concrete Operational Stage (approximately 7–11 years)

As children grow, creativity doesn't become less important—it simply changes.

Children begin thinking more logically about real situations. They become better at planning, sequencing, problem-solving and considering different perspectives.

Creative projects encourage children to test ideas, solve challenges, make decisions and reflect upon the outcomes. They learn that there isn't always one correct answer and that sometimes the best ideas come from experimenting, adapting and trying again.

For Piaget, creativity isn't simply about producing beautiful artwork.

It's one of the ways children construct knowledge itself.

Piaget has probably been one of the most influential theorists throughout my career, both supporting children professionally and now raising Esme.

He reminds me to slow down.

To meet children exactly where they are, rather than where I think they should be.

To remember that every stage of development has purpose, even when it looks messy, repetitive or frustrating to adults.

When a child asks "why?" for the hundredth time, tips the paint onto the table instead of the paper or insists on pretending to be a dinosaur instead of getting dressed, Piaget gently reminds me that they're not trying to push my buttons.

They're exploring.

They're testing ideas.

They're learning how the world works.

As adults, I think we sometimes feel pressure to hurry children along. We compare milestones, celebrate being "ahead" and worry when children don't fit neatly into expected timelines.

Piaget reminds me that childhood isn't a race.

There is beauty in allowing children the time they need to wonder, imagine and discover.

And perhaps that's one of the greatest gifts we can give them.

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Lev Vygotsky — Creativity Builds Connection

Whilst Piaget focused on how children construct knowledge independently, Russian psychologist Lev Vygotsky highlighted something equally important.

Children learn through relationships.

One of Vygotsky's best-known ideas is the Zone of Proximal Development. This suggests there are some things children can achieve independently, but there are many more things they can achieve with the support of a trusted, knowledgeable adult.

Learning is not simply about giving children answers.

It's about gently supporting them until they are able to do something for themselves.

This is often referred to as scaffolding.

Little by little, the adult provides encouragement, models new skills, asks thoughtful questions and gradually steps back as the child's confidence grows.

Language plays a particularly important role within Vygotsky's theory.

Conversations help children organise their thinking.

Shared experiences help children make sense of emotions.

Warm interactions gradually become the child's own inner voice.

When we look at creativity through this lens, something fascinating happens.

Creativity becomes the conversation, not just the activity.

A child painting alongside a trusted adult isn't simply creating artwork.

They're developing language.

They're practising emotional literacy.

They're learning new vocabulary.

They're sharing ideas.

They're building confidence.

They're strengthening the relationship with the adult sitting beside them.

The artwork almost becomes secondary.

The real learning happens within the interaction.

For children who struggle to put their feelings into words, creativity can provide a gentle starting point.

Rather than asking difficult questions immediately, the shared creative experience creates opportunities for conversation to develop naturally, without pressure.

Sometimes the richest discussions happen because two people were simply drawing, painting or creating together.

When I first became a parent, I remember saying to my best friend that my role was to support my daughter to become an independent adult.

My gorgeous best friend, who I have on a pedestal when it comes to learning because she seems to absorb books, blogs and fascinating discoveries about everything from politics and world events to the colourful world of entertainment, simply replied,

"Our job is to keep them safe."

I remember kicking myself for not saying that too. It felt so obvious afterwards, and for years I replayed that conversation in my mind.

But as time has gone on, I've become more comfortable with my original answer too.

I still believe one of my greatest roles as a parent is to support my daughter to become an independent adult; someone with the confidence, autonomy and resilience to build a life that reflects her own morals, values and happiness.

The difference is that now I realise those two ideas aren't in conflict.

Keeping our children safe is how we help them become independent.

Looking back, I think that's one of the reasons Vygotsky's work resonates so deeply with me. He reminds us that children don't become capable all by themselves. They become capable because a trusted adult walks alongside them, gently supporting them until one day they realise they can do it alone.

That's exactly the parent I hope to be for Esme. Someone who keeps her safe today, while feeling confident enough to take carefully considered risks in supporting her independence, so that one day she has the confidence to spread her wings and fly.

That isn't to say it's always easy. Watching her confidently fly down a zip wire at two years old, cross a very quiet road by herself to practise road safety at five, and make us a cup of tea at six has required a huge amount of scaffolding beforehand. Each of those moments was built on countless smaller opportunities to practise, learn and grow with me right beside her.

For me, that's Vygotsky in action. Independence doesn't happen overnight. It grows through patient guidance, encouragement and trusting that, little by little, children become ready for the next step.

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Abraham Maslow — Creativity Needs Emotional Safety

Abraham Maslow is perhaps best known for his Hierarchy of Needs, a theory suggesting that human beings are motivated by different levels of need.

Before we can focus on learning, confidence or achieving our potential, our more fundamental needs must first be met.

We need food.

We need rest.

We need safety.

We need connection.

Only when these foundations feel reasonably secure do we begin moving towards what Maslow described as self-actualisation—becoming the fullest version of ourselves.

Interestingly, creativity sits within this highest level.

This doesn't mean creativity is a luxury.

Rather, it reminds us that children create most freely when they feel emotionally safe.

Think about a child who is frightened, overwhelmed or constantly worried.

Their brain is focused on survival.

There is very little capacity left for imagination, exploration or curiosity.

Now think about a child who feels accepted, valued and emotionally secure.

They're more willing to take risks.

More willing to make mistakes.

More willing to experiment.

More willing to wonder "what if?"

Creativity flourishes in emotionally safe environments because children feel confident enough to explore without fear of getting it wrong.

This is perhaps one of the reasons creative expression can become such a powerful outlet during difficult times.

Painting.

Drawing.

Working with clay.

Building.

Creating.

These activities provide opportunities for children to process experiences, express emotions and regain a sense of control in a way that often feels safer than finding the perfect words.

I guess that's why creativity has remained such an important part of childhood across cultures and throughout history.

It gives children permission to explore themselves without needing to have all the answers.

And maybe that's one of the greatest gifts creativity can offer.

🌿 What Maslow Means to Me

As an adoptive parent and educator, I find myself referring back to Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs time and time again.

If there's one developmental theory that has quietly influenced almost every role I've held, it's this one.

Sadly, I think we sometimes become so focused on helping children achieve, learn and succeed that we try to leap to the top of the triangle before making sure the foundations are firmly in place.

Children can't always access learning if they don't first feel safe.

They struggle to thrive if their basic needs aren't being met.

I learnt this lesson in a very personal way when my daughter started her first primary school.

Because of a food intolerance, she couldn't eat the standard school snack. Despite providing suitable food from home, I later discovered that for the first two weeks she simply wasn't given anything to eat at snack time because procedures hadn't yet been put in place.

No one intended to upset her.

It was simply a system that wasn't working for the child standing in front of them.

For me, that moment summed up Maslow perfectly.

How could we expect a young child to settle, build relationships, learn and flourish if one of her most basic physiological needs wasn't consistently being met?

Unfortunately, that wasn't the only occasion where I felt the foundations were being overlooked, and eventually we made the difficult decision to move her to another school.

The difference was remarkable.

The nurturing environment, relationships and understanding of children's individual needs transformed her experience of school.

Looking back, it reinforced something I have believed ever since.

Children don't climb Maslow's hierarchy by accident.

The adults around them help build each step.

Food.

Safety.

Belonging.

Connection.

Only then do children begin developing the confidence to explore, learn and reach their potential.

The same principle has guided my own professional practice.

In my previous role, I spent almost twelve weeks simply getting to know the children before introducing significant changes or new expectations.

Those weeks weren't wasted time.

They were the work.

They allowed relationships to develop, trust to grow and emotional safety to form.

Interestingly, the same thing happened with the staff team. As relationships strengthened, conversations became easier, ideas were shared more openly and I felt genuinely valued as part of the team.

Maslow reminds me that relationships aren't something we squeeze in around the work.

Very often, they are the work.

Without secure foundations, everything else becomes so much harder to build.

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Erik Erikson – Creativity Builds Confidence

If Piaget explained how children think, and Vygotsky showed us how relationships shape learning, Erik Erikson helps us understand how children develop confidence in themselves.

Erikson believed that throughout life we move through a series of developmental stages, each presenting its own challenge. During childhood, these stages are particularly important because they shape how children begin to view themselves and their place in the world.

Children who are given opportunities to try, practise, succeed and even fail safely begin to develop a sense of competence. They start believing, "I can do hard things."

Confidence doesn't appear overnight.

It grows through hundreds of small experiences.

Finishing a painting.

Learning to mix colours.

Trying a new technique.

Making a mistake and realising it wasn't a disaster.

Solving a creative problem.

Choosing different materials.

Deciding that there isn't one "right" way to create something.

These moments might seem small to adults, but together they become the building blocks of self-belief.

Adults play a vital role in this process too.

Breaking larger tasks into manageable steps helps children experience success without becoming overwhelmed.

Offering specific praise such as, "You kept trying even when that felt tricky," rather than simply saying "Well done," teaches children that effort, perseverance and curiosity are just as valuable as the finished result.

Equally important is allowing children to see that mistakes are a normal part of learning.

When adults model making mistakes themselves and respond with curiosity rather than frustration, children learn that imperfection isn't something to fear.

Creativity provides endless opportunities for children to experience this.

There is rarely one correct answer.

Instead, children learn that ideas can change, evolve and improve through exploration.

That quiet confidence often reaches far beyond the art table and begins to influence friendships, learning and everyday life.

🌿 What Erikson Means to Me

If I'm honest, confidence has always been something I've struggled to understand.

I don't have a neat answer as to why it didn't come naturally to me, and I sometimes wish I did.

Like most people, my childhood was a mixture of experiences. There was love. There were moments that made me feel proud. There were also experiences that left me with trauma responses that have stayed with me into adulthood.

Researching Erik Erikson gave me something I hadn't expected.

Hope.

Hope that confidence isn't something we're either born with or without. Hope that it can continue to develop throughout our lives.

When I look back objectively, I know I've achieved things I'm incredibly proud of.

Despite moving schools thirteen times, I achieved good GCSEs.

I went on to gain a 2:1 honours degree.

By the age of thirty, I was teaching childcare to adults at college, a career I had dreamed about for years.

I've now been happily married for almost twenty years, navigating all the complexities that long-term relationships naturally bring.

If someone listed those achievements back to me, they might assume I was a confident person.

But I wasn't a confident person.

I dreaded small talk.

I often felt scruffy and self-conscious because of my weight.

Large groups and parties left me wanting to disappear into the background.

I've always loved my own company more than crowded rooms.

So what was the missing ingredient?

The honest answer is...

I still don't fully know.

But I do know when something began to change.

Ironically, it happened during one of the most difficult periods of my life.

While teaching at college, I witnessed a colleague giving answers to one of my students during an assessment.

I was devastated.

Working with children is one of the greatest responsibilities we can have, and I simply couldn't accept the idea of passing someone as competent if they had cheated their way through an assessment.

When I raised my concerns, nothing happened.

Not with my manager.

Not with the Head of Faculty.

Not even after taking my concerns further.

What followed was a series of HR meetings that, at just thirty-one years old, I wasn't emotionally equipped to navigate.

Eventually, I walked away from the career I had worked so hard to build.

At exactly the same time, my dream of becoming a mother also seemed to be slipping away.

Looking back, I can honestly say I felt broken.

Yet strangely...

I now believe those experiences redirected my life rather than ruined it.

With unexpected time on my hands, I started painting furniture.

At first, it was simply something to do.

Then it became something much more.

Within a year I was selling painted chiffoniers, pianos, grandfather clocks and commissioned pieces. People trusted me to transform their kitchens and furniture, and somewhere amongst the paint, the sanding and the creativity, I slowly found myself again.

Creativity didn't suddenly make me an extrovert.

I still prefer quiet places to busy parties.

I still enjoy my own company.

Those parts of my personality haven't changed, and I don't think they need to.

But something much deeper did change.

For perhaps the first time, I developed a quiet confidence in who I was.

That confidence has shaped every major decision since.

My husband and I moved over 300 miles to create a slower, quieter life in a beautiful part of England.

We navigated the incredibly intrusive, emotional and rewarding adoption process to become Esme's parents.

And now I've built Wild Hearts Creative—a business that reflects my values more honestly than any job I've ever had.

Perhaps that's what Erikson has taught me.

Confidence isn't about becoming the loudest person in the room.

It's about developing enough belief in yourself to keep taking the next step, even when it feels uncomfortable.

So if you're supporting a child who struggles with confidence, please don't lose hope.

Confidence isn't built in one conversation or one achievement.

It's built through hundreds of opportunities to try, to fail, to try again and eventually discover, "I can do this."

Children don't need to feel fearless.

They simply need trusted adults who believe in them long enough for them to begin believing in themselves.

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Donald Winnicott – Creativity Helps Children Discover Who They Are

Few psychologists have influenced our understanding of play quite like Donald Winnicott.

As a paediatrician and psychoanalyst, Winnicott believed something beautifully simple.

"It is in playing, and perhaps only in playing, that the child is free to be creative."

At first glance this sounds like a lovely quote about play.

In reality, it goes much deeper.

Winnicott believed that creativity wasn't limited to producing artwork or making something beautiful.

Creativity was about feeling free enough to explore.

To imagine.

To experiment.

To wonder.

To express ourselves without fear of judgement.

For children, play provides a safe space where emotions, relationships and life experiences can be explored symbolically long before they are fully understood.

A child may paint a storm without saying they're frightened.

They may build a bridge without realising they're exploring connection.

They may tell stories through tiny figures or loose parts that reveal worries they haven't yet found words for.

Play allows children to communicate in a language that often feels safer than conversation.

Perhaps this is why creativity can become such a powerful companion during difficult experiences.

When children don't yet have the vocabulary to explain complicated feelings, they can often show us instead.

Not because we're trying to interpret every picture they create, but because creativity gives them permission to explore whatever feels important to them in that moment.

For Winnicott, the trusted adult's role isn't to analyse every drawing.

It's simply to remain present.

To notice.

To wonder.

To stay alongside the child.

The creativity becomes the bridge, not the destination.

🌿 What Winnicott Means to Me

Sadly, parenting through a trauma-informed lens has meant that play hasn't always come easily in our household.

That might sound like a strange thing to say after writing an entire section about the importance of play, but I think honesty matters.

My daughter absolutely loves to play.

Her imagination is extraordinary.

Sometimes it's so vivid that even brushing our teeth becomes an adventure because she's busy creating stories, inventing characters and inviting me into another world she's imagined.

She also has an endless love of movement.

Running.

Climbing.

Jumping.

Swinging.

Exploring.

As someone living with fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue and a body that simply can't keep up with a seemingly endless supply of six-year-old energy, I often find that physically exhausting.

Thankfully, many of her little friends begin to tire long before she does, happily settling down for quieter activities while I'm silently breathing a sigh of relief!

What has always amazed me, though, is that my daughter has never seemed disappointed by my limitations.

She simply wants me.

Whether we're face painting, pretending to be robots or sitting in a park making logstick piles to become forts, bonfires or bug hotels, she wants us to do it together.

And that's where the challenge has sometimes been.

Because of her early experiences, and perhaps because I've always tried to nurture her curiosity and love of learning, she has found independent play incredibly difficult.

She has rarely wanted to play without me.

If I'm honest, that has sometimes made me feel sad.

Over the years I've watched children become completely absorbed in their own imaginary worlds, creating stories, solving problems and entertaining themselves for long periods of time. Independent play gives children opportunities to build confidence, creativity and trust in their own ideas.

It's something I hope my daughter will experience more of as she grows.

So we've gently worked on it.

Not with pressure.

Not by withdrawing from her.

But by noticing and celebrating those tiny moments when she naturally becomes absorbed in her own play.

Sometimes that means lots of praise.

Sometimes it means earning one of her much-loved Skill Stars.

Little by little, those moments are beginning to appear.

Winnicott reminds me that play is far more than entertainment.

It is one of children's first languages.

It's where they process experiences.

Experiment with ideas.

Explore relationships.

Express emotions.

And quietly discover who they are.

For our family, there is still work happening behind the scenes to support this area of development, and that's okay.

Development isn't a race.

In the meantime, I'll continue placing enormous value on every type of play, but especially creative play.

Because whether children are painting, building, sculpting, drawing or simply experimenting without fear of getting it right, creativity gives them something incredibly precious.

The freedom to explore themselves in a way that words sometimes cannot.

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Transitional Objects – A Bridge Between Safety and Independence

Winnicott also introduced the idea of transitional objects.

Many children have one.

A favourite teddy.

A blanket.

A special toy.

Something that brings comfort during times of separation or uncertainty.

These objects symbolise an important stage in development.

Children are beginning to recognise that they are separate from the people who care for them, yet they still need something that represents safety when those trusted adults aren't close by.

The transitional object quietly bridges that gap.

Over time, children internalise that sense of security until they no longer need the object in quite the same way.

Although originally described in childhood, the principle has relevance throughout life.

Many therapeutic approaches recognise that symbolic objects can help people maintain a sense of emotional connection between sessions.

A journal.

A small token.

A comfort stone.

A written affirmation.

These aren't magical objects.

Instead, they become gentle reminders of safety, hope and connection.

🌿 What Transitional Objects Mean to Me

Reading about Winnicott's theory of transitional objects immediately took me back to my own childhood.

Mine was a Mr. Men cushion with my name embroidered on it, lovingly made by my sister.

I absolutely adored it.

It wasn't just a cushion.

It was comfort.

It was familiarity.

It was something that helped me feel safe when life felt uncertain.

Perhaps that's why the idea of transitional objects has always resonated with me.

When creating the Wild Hearts Creative kits, we chose to include a small comfort stone. That idea was inspired not only by the research but also by my younger sister, who often carried a smooth stone in her pocket as a child.

For her, it brought reassurance.

For another child, it might be something completely different.

A teddy.

A blanket.

A bracelet.

A shell collected from the beach.

A photograph.

A tiny toy that fits neatly into a pocket.

The object itself is rarely the important part.

What matters is the meaning the child gives it.

That's why I would always encourage children to choose what brings them comfort, rather than assuming one object will suit everyone.

At Wild Hearts we support this connection, by having a teddy with a Name Your Bear card, or a comfort stone with a message and a special pouch, saying I can take a moment.  I think we have picked two great items to be transitional objects,  however it's only special to the child if they feel safe with it and are pleased with these items.  

Perhaps that's one of Winnicott's greatest reminders of all.

Children are wonderfully individual, and sometimes the smallest objects can carry the biggest feelings.

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John Bowlby – Creativity Strengthens Attachment

John Bowlby's Attachment Theory transformed our understanding of children's emotional development.

Bowlby believed children are biologically driven to seek closeness with trusted caregivers because secure relationships provide both protection and confidence to explore the world.

Children don't become independent by being pushed away.

They become independent because they first experience safety.

When children know someone is emotionally available, they are far more willing to investigate, experiment and take healthy risks.

Attachment and exploration are not opposites.

They support one another.

This links beautifully with creativity.

When a trusted adult sits alongside a child during a creative activity, they are doing far more than supervising.

They are providing emotional safety.

Offering encouragement.

Sharing moments of connection.

Following the child's lead.

Listening without judgement.

The artwork becomes a shared experience rather than a task to complete.

For some children, especially those who have experienced trauma, separation, loss or disrupted attachments, creativity can provide opportunities to strengthen these safe relationships without requiring difficult conversations from the outset.

The adult doesn't need all the answers.

They simply need to be emotionally available.

Over time, these repeated moments of safety begin to change how children experience relationships.

Safe relationship.

Curiosity.

Play.

Creativity.

Self-discovery.

Although each theorist we've explored approaches child development from a different angle, a common thread is beginning to emerge.

Children thrive when they feel emotionally safe enough to explore.

They learn through relationships.

They build confidence through experience.

They discover themselves through play.

Perhaps creativity is one of the most natural ways these developmental processes come together.

🌿 What Bowlby Means to Me

John Bowlby's work probably needs very little introduction. His theory speaks so clearly for itself that there is very little I could add to improve upon it.

What his work has given me, however, is a wonderful excuse to pick up my camera.

Over the years I've taken countless photographs of my younger sister and her two children, fascinated by the quiet moments that so beautifully demonstrate attachment in action.

This particular photograph became part of an initiative called Stoke Speaks Out, where I was asked to capture images that encouraged parents to see the importance of talking to their babies and building those early attachment relationships.

Looking back at these photographs now reminds me that attachment isn't something dramatic.

It's found in the smiles.

The cuddles.

The eye contact.

The conversations.

The shared laughter.

The tiny everyday moments that children often won't remember consciously, but that quietly shape how safe they feel in the world.

So thank you, Sara, Gracie and Beau, for allowing me to observe and capture your beautiful bond over the years.

Gracie and Beau are adults now. I miss those baby cuddles more than I can say, although thankfully they still tolerate the occasional Auntie hug.

Sometimes I wonder whether we've become so focused on protecting children that we don't always talk enough about what helps them truly thrive.

If you've read my previous Wild Hearts Journal article on safeguarding, you'll know how passionately I believe in protecting children. Nothing I write here is intended to diminish the importance of safeguarding or appropriate professional boundaries.

However, I do sometimes worry that, in our understandable efforts to keep children safe, we can become so cautious that we forget another fundamental truth.

Children also need nurturing, responsive human connection and therefore touch.

Throughout history, research into children raised in severely deprived institutional settings has shown us just how devastating the absence of warm, consistent caregiving can be. Human connection isn't simply something that feels nice.

It is fundamental to healthy development.

I'm a huge believer in baby massage.

I'm also a huge believer in consent.

As children grow, I think it's incredibly important that they learn they have ownership over their own bodies.

I often ask Esme, "What kind of touch feels nice for you?"

Sometimes it's a cuddle.

Sometimes it's sitting close together while we read.

Sometimes it's simply holding hands.

Fortunately for me, she's inherited my love of a great big hug.

Perhaps that's what Bowlby has taught me most.

Attachment isn't built through grand gestures.

It's built through thousands of tiny moments where children feel safe, seen and comforted by the people who love them.

Whether that's a reassuring hand to hold, a cuddle after a difficult day or simply sitting shoulder to shoulder while creating together, those moments quietly tell children,

"You're safe."

And I can't think of many more powerful messages than that.

---

Dr Bruce Perry – Creativity Supports Regulation

As we've explored the work of Piaget, Vygotsky, Maslow, Erikson, Winnicott and Bowlby, a clear pattern begins to emerge.

Children don't simply learn through instruction.

They learn through relationships.

Through exploration.

Through feeling emotionally safe.

Through play.

But what happens when a child is so overwhelmed, anxious or dysregulated that they simply can't access any of those things?

This is where the work of psychiatrist and neuroscientist Dr Bruce Perry adds another important piece to the puzzle.

Rather than asking, "What's wrong with this child?" Perry encourages us to ask,

"What has happened to this child, and what does their nervous system need right now?"

His Neurosequential Model reminds us that before children are ready to reason, reflect or talk about their feelings, their brains often need help becoming regulated.

Quite simply...

A dysregulated brain struggles to learn.

It struggles to listen.

It struggles to think.

It struggles to create.

So how do we help children become ready?

One of Perry's most influential findings centres around something wonderfully simple.

Rhythm.

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Why Rhythm Matters

Human beings are rhythmic by nature.

Long before we are born, we experience the rhythmic beat of a mother's heart.

We are rocked.

Held.

Swayed.

Comforted through repeated, predictable movement.

As we grow, rhythm continues to play an important role in helping organise our nervous systems.

Rocking babies.

Walking.

Dancing.

Swinging.

Clapping.

Chewing.

Breathing.

Marching.

Repeated movements provide predictable sensory input that helps the brain organise itself.

Dr Perry often speaks about using patterned, repetitive, rhythmic activities to help children regulate before expecting them to concentrate or learn.

In educational settings, even just a few minutes of rhythmic movement before learning can significantly improve children's ability to engage.

Rather than viewing behaviour as something to correct, Perry encourages us to look underneath it.

What is the nervous system communicating?

What does this child need right now?

Sometimes the answer isn't another instruction.

Sometimes it's regulation.

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Can Creativity Help Regulate the Nervous System?

This question fascinated me.

If rhythm supports regulation...

Could creativity sometimes do the same?

I believe the answer is often yes.

Not because creativity is a magical solution.

Not because every child will immediately feel calm.

But because many creative experiences naturally contain the same rhythmic, repetitive qualities that neuroscience tells us can help organise the brain.

Think about the repeated movement of...

Long, slow paint strokes across a page.

Rolling clay between your hands.

Kneading dough.

Mixing paint.

Drawing circles.

Colouring repeating patterns.

Dot painting.

Stamping.

Weaving.

Tearing and sticking paper.

None of these activities demand perfect artwork.

Instead, they provide gentle sensory and motor experiences that many children find organising and calming.

Of course, every child is different.

A child who is highly distressed may not immediately be ready to create.

They may first need movement.

Connection.

Silence.

Space.

Or simply a trusted adult sitting quietly beside them.

But once their nervous system begins settling, creativity can become another way of maintaining that regulation.

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Regulation Before Reflection

As I explored Bruce Perry's work, something about the philosophy behind Wild Hearts Creative became much clearer to me.

The aim has never been to sit children down and immediately ask difficult questions.

In fact, many children aren't ready for that.

Instead, perhaps the sequence looks more like this.

First we settle together.

Then we create together.

Then, if the child wants to...

We wonder together.

That feels very different.

Rather than saying,

"Let's talk about your feelings."

We're saying,

"Let's spend some time together."

"Let's make something."

"Let's see where the conversation goes."

The pressure disappears.

The child remains in control.

The trusted adult follows rather than leads.

---

Holding the Space

Maybe this is why the phrase Holding the Space has become so important to me.

Adults often feel enormous pressure to find the perfect words.

To solve problems.

To fix emotions.

To make sadness disappear.

But children don't always need solutions.

Sometimes they need someone who is willing to stay.

To notice.

To wonder.

To remain emotionally available without rushing the process.

Whether we're looking through the lens of Bowlby's attachment theory, Winnicott's understanding of play, Vygotsky's relationships, Maslow's emotional safety or Perry's neuroscience, the message feels remarkably similar.

The trusted adult matters.

Not because they have all the answers.

But because they help the child feel safe enough to discover their own.

Creativity simply becomes the bridge between them.

---

A Small Idea That Changed Everything

As I reflected on everything I'd been reading, I found myself wondering whether every creative experience should begin in the same way.

Not with questions.

Not with expectations.

But with a moment to help the body feel ready.

Perhaps something as simple as...

🌿 Before We Create

Before we begin...

Let's help our bodies feel ready.

• Roll the clay slowly between your hands.

• Paint ten long brush strokes across your page.

• Push your feet gently into the floor.

• Stretch your arms as high as you can.

• Notice your breathing.

• Take your time.

There is no rush.

Not because these activities magically solve difficult emotions.

But because they gently acknowledge something important.

Sometimes our bodies need to feel a little more organised before our minds are ready to create.

---

So... Why Does Creativity Matter?

When I first began researching creativity, I expected to find lots of evidence showing that art helps children express themselves.

I found far more than that.

Across decades of research, developmental psychology, attachment theory and neuroscience, some of the most influential thinkers in child development repeatedly point towards remarkably similar conclusions.

Piaget showed us that creativity helps children construct knowledge.

Vygotsky reminded us that creativity grows through relationships.

Maslow demonstrated that emotional safety creates the conditions for creativity to flourish.

Erikson highlighted the role of creativity in building confidence through experience.

Winnicott believed play allows children to discover who they are.

Bowlby showed us that secure relationships give children the confidence to explore.

Bruce Perry reminds us that before children can think and reflect, their nervous systems often need opportunities to regulate.

Each theory approaches children from a different perspective.

Yet together they tell a remarkably consistent story.

Creativity isn't simply about producing beautiful artwork.

It isn't about staying inside the lines.

It isn't about making something worthy of hanging on the fridge.

Creativity is one of the ways children think.

One of the ways they connect.

One of the ways they regulate.

One of the ways they communicate.

One of the ways they discover themselves.

Perhaps that's why creativity has remained such an important part of childhood for generations.

Not because every child will become an artist.

But because every child deserves opportunities to explore who they are in ways that feel safe, meaningful and free from judgement.

And perhaps that's the greatest lesson all of these remarkable thinkers have taught us.

Sometimes the most important thing we can give a child isn't the right answer.

It's the space to create, the safety to explore and the reassurance that whatever they discover along the way, they won't have to do it alone.

If there's one thing researching these remarkable thinkers has taught me, it's that none of us ever stop learning.

These are simply my reflections on theories that have profoundly shaped both my professional practice and my journey as an adoptive mum. I know there is always more to learn, so I warmly welcome discussion, different perspectives and further knowledge.

Thank you for taking the time to read my thoughts.

With love,

Gem x

 

Further Reading

Piaget, J.

Vygotsky, L.

Maslow, A.

Erikson, E.

Winnicott, D. W.

Bowlby, J.

Perry, B. D.