My best friends are going to have a baby very soon. Every time I talk to them, they seem to be more excited, happier than the last time we spoke. I suspect that something about the fact that they've come together to help create something as fantastic and mind-blowing as a human life has something to do with that excitement.~ The first time I hear a song I've written being played with a full band, I'm humbled with a sense of wonder that the choppy tune I came up with on the bus one day now is being brought to life with breaths of guitar riffs, bass line pulses and drummed footsteps. ~ My friends, with all the giddy anticipation of the baby, also may fear the pain they know is coming for mommy when it's time to deliver their daughter. Before she can hold her baby girl in her arms, the mother (having chosen natural childbirth) will face an intimidating physical, emotional, and mental trial. The kind of trial that nobody ever asks for or actually wants to experience. ~ I should have written 10,000 songs by now. After I move past my initial inspiration of a soulful lyric or chord progression, I hit a wall. Or three. I'll tinker. I'll ponder. I'll labor. I'll take a break (or three). And then I want to throw it all in the trash. If I could fit in the trash can, I'd throw myself in too. ~ These parents-to-be are not going to quit. There is no threat of pain so severe at this point that will keep them from seeing their baby take her first breath. Of everything we have the privilege to create, a human life is too sacred a privilege, too life-changing an experience to give up on. ~ Even if I try to forget about writing songs, my heart won't let me. If I walk down the sidewalk, melodies begin to form to the beat of my footsteps. If I drown out my own songs with noise and static all day long, they will come to me at night and keep me awake. Something in me must create music, not for fame or crowds but for my soul. ~
We were meant to create.
We won't always be able to create easily, but we were meant to create.
We create art. We create structures. We create people.
We also can create memories. We can create atmosphere. We can create reality.
We create destruction and pain where they should not be.
We create affection and love where they did not exist before.
Whether or not you know how to use a paintbrush, whether or not you can capture people's attention with your fingers on some strings, whether or not you can build walls that keep people safe from winter's hand...
Are we creating love in our silent home? Are we creating joy in our gray workspace? Are we creating peace in our friends' chaos?
What are we creating?