Every creative act we offer to the world is an invitation for others to come into a space we’ve created and curated.
On Sunday, my stepson came up to me at church before the service started and asked, “Did you write another book? Grandpa said you wrote another book.”
On Saturday, I finally took the growing collection of bags and boxes to Goodwill, reorganized the things we planned to keep, and cleared a space where I could set up a card table and chair as a work station for myself. Then, I pulled out my mom’s old sewing machine — the one she gave me last fall and had been ignoring since — and set to work learning to sew.
I begin with now: looking out the window, I see the sun shining like a spotlight between the trees and houses in our neighborhood. The brightness focuses on the middle of the back lawn — our postage stamp yard that takes less than 10 minutes to mow. It’s focused on nothing in particular, …
In a recent essay for The New Yorker, Carrie Battan writes about Julie Cameron’s The Artist’s Way and whether or not it’s still relevant in an age when corporate America has co-opted the word “creative” and turned it into a commodity.