Many experiences over the last few months have pointed me towards this question: Why do we create?

And the second question, Why do we stop creating?

My answer is a web of experiences, a web of influences from now and then. I want to talk about Love, mostly. I have noticed, however, talking about Love sometimes makes people uncomfortable. I notice the break in eye contact, the fidgeting, the need to change the subject.

I experience an uneasiness around Love, too. I try to describe what I’m doing in my writing life and with students in terms of Love and my words seem to form clouds of ideas and ambiguity and longing. My longing to be in community. My longing to listen and share. My longing to develop a deep awareness of love as always present.

I am not hope-filled for the future. I sense the Falling-Apart-phase our society is experiencing is going to continue, to gain momentum.

I am preparing myself for what will be needed. I am preparing myself to know what is my work to do.

How? I’m becoming visible again. I’m completing my novel, many essays, a parable, regular blog posts, and grant applications to help me fund my visibility-for-love campaign.

I question, every day, whether my voice is needed in print and in community settings. I wonder if the roles I’m in aren’t enough? Mother. Grandmother. Partner. I hear fear in my questioning.

I ask myself. How can you live your life to the fullest expression of love for all beings? I am uneasy. I remember all the ways I’ve failed.

What about the time we went away at Christmas and I forgot about the hamster? I didn’t arrange for care. I didn’t top up her water. I didn’t add extra food. I had so many responsibilities back then– 5 kids and a need to make life better for everyone.

When we returned from holidays in late December, I walked into the cold house and, suddenly, I remembered. The hamster! I stopped outside the bedroom where the hamster’s cage waited on the dresser. I begged for an outcome: be alive.

The hamster was gone! It appeared she chewed her way out of the habit-trail-tube and, perhaps, descended down the cold-air-return to the furnace. I wondered how painful her last days were. I wondered if I could forgive myself. My stomach aches at this memory. I’ve cried, remembering this.

My failures at love have haunted me. I’ve walked and walked, remembering and honouring all the ways I’ve failed. I’ve noticed: meeting the grief and shame embedded in my experiences helps me to dissolve it, as if it were salt in an ocean. More room for love now. Now, more room for listening to others. Currently, more room for preparing myself and helping others prepare for whatever future life holds.

Creation, I’ve been thinking, makes us happy. Creation is an action of Joy, evidence of life being lived.

Post-creation may not make us happy, depending on what we expect in terms of outcomes.

Creation in Action:

This past week I completed a grant application for some funding to create a membership space on my website, redesign and brand Digital Downloads for creative life experiments, and make it easier to schedule, purchase and remain up-to-date on workshops, classes, and in-person residencies.

The grant committee is interested, first and foremost, on how their funding will expand an artist’s business, expand community access to the arts, expand cultural forms of expression. I ribboned love through my application. I don’t know if I’ll receive the funding. I can’t be attached to any outcome. Who knows what will happen at any moment? Still, I plan for a future.

I’m diving into teaching spaces with renewed energy and urgency for 2023. We begin in early January with a series of workshops/retreat on Saltspring Island.

I’ll be announcing more soon. For now, please consider:

Why do you create? What do you want to create more of? How does love, fear, grief, shame and joy factor into your life and in your creations?