Over the last few months, my creative energy got some traction and my hands started making things. As the initial breeze of ideas began blowing I did not anticipate the tornado of yarn, fabric, paper, playing cards, tiny bells, and dog biscuits that followed. My living and dining room are more often than not in total chaos. There is no place to eat at the dining room table and my children are getting understandably annoyed. And I am having a ball.
For so very long, I tried to keep life neat, and tidy, and organized, and planned. In control. Everything in its place. It was tiresome and a never ending job. I’d think I had it all figured out and then something would go sideways. I’d scurry to clean up the mess, frustrated and more determined to make sure the next time, I planned a little better. With each round of this cycle, I became a little more rigid, less open to the possibilities, a little less creative. I was so hard on myself, and becoming more and more critical of everything.
Every now and then some of that creative, messy energy could not be contained. I’d let it out a bit, but then after a few days, realize it was time to clean up, and stuff it all back into plastic bins and put it back under the bed. This time I’m not stuffing it back in.
I am in awe about how making things with my hands makes me feel. I am in awe seeing how people respond when I give them something I have made. I am in awe as to how long it has taken me to realize I need this messiness in my life. Making for me is saying yes to possibility. It is getting into the flow of how textures and colors and materials come together, a community of separate objects, curated, and assembled with the intent of making something new.
It also brings back the memories of when I was a child making barbie houses and fabric dolls, doll clothes and shrinky dinks (remember those!). It brings back ripples of joy and playfulness, curiosity and an innocent courage to create. I thought these feelings, and experiences, were long gone. Yet it seems they were just buried, waiting for the long-awaited invitation to come back into my life.
What activity may be a buried treasure inside you? What would you need to do in your life to “be having a ball?” Can you tolerate the mess and chaos it might bring? Can you carve out the time to explore the idea of this possibility?
Why? Because it’s what makes life vibrate with excitement and meaning, not for anyone else, but you. Are you worth it? It’s easy to say hmmm, maybe, but think again. As my teacher Maria says when you don’t “do you,” you are holding back something the world needs. That is a full, creative, thriving, authentic you.
I can’t wait for you to say yes.
ps. I am looking for a new place to move my mess, an artist studio, so I can get even messier.