Carol A. Hand
Approach the art of creating
as a sacred ceremony
emerging from spirit
as a path
for honoring and celebrating life
knowing deep in our hearts
Loving thoughts will vibrate
in whatever we create
long after we are gone
as the essence of light and new possibilities
like the scent of rain and roses
and the peace of sun-kissed pine
blessing all those who follow
Endings are never easy for me. They signal times of transition. Yet, as I walked to my car Saturday after my last class of the semester, I had a sudden realization. Regardless of my circumstances, I have always found ways to express creativity. The subjects and media changed based on what was close at hand. Sewing, singing, drawing, studying pond-life under my microscope, making pottery, hooking rugs, tying macramé art, knitting, gardening. Learning about life and crafting useful things that were colorful and well-made proved to be a form of peaceful meditation. I could daydream and reflect. My spirit needed to express creativity. It gave me a quiet space to think and time to breathe love into being.
Under different conditions, I worked with people, developing innovative programs and experimenting with different ways of supervising staff, evaluating programs, conducting research, and teaching.
Creating living art, if you will, is like building sand castles that dissolve in the waves of time. Gaining fame and fortune was never the goal. The only legacies my “art” left were the interventions and projects others believed they had created (and in reality, they were essential and made it possible) and the memories for me of what had been possible to create in the past.
During times of transition, I have learned to ask myself a crucial question. Why not create again, and again, in each new now with whatever opportunities and media are available? There are grandchildren to love, gardens to revitalize, and endless issues to ponder and thoughtfully address in creative ways.
The privilege to dream of possibilities is accompanied by the responsibility to work toward their realization. I don’t claim it’s an easy choice. I have no power to change others who don’t seem to be able to see and honor the wonder and beauty of life. Despite the deep sorrow that accompanies witnessing disrespect and destruction and the seeming futility of giving voice to the art of change, I still believe simple caring actions matter. I’m just not sure what form that will take for me in the coming days…