The Artist Within

The other day, I was talking to second graders. 

We were chatting about authors, illustrators and the difference between fiction and non-fiction works.

I shared with them that I really love words.  I am inspired by what they conjure up in my head and more importantly, in my heart.  I love how they string together and tell stories that people can see themselves inside of or find places that they want to explore or become.

And then, I asked them, "What do you love?" and then, "Raise your hand if you are an artist."

Most of the room raised their hand, but a fraction did not. 

So, I elaborated with, "Raise your hand if you like to write, to dance, to paint, to draw, to sculpt, to build, to invent, to experiment with wood, metal, Legos, color, food, canvas, construction paper, paint, fabric or if you like to sing or write songs or watch certain movies over and over and maybe even make movies on your mom or dad's phone or if you play an instrument or make your own music out of things lying around the house."

By that point, everyone had raised their hands and so, I offered, "Well, then, you are all artists.  Every one of you.  Each of you are a child of God and you were fashioned to create in the world as the creator has made you.  You were built to share all of you with the world.  And there is so much beauty and creativity inside of you...so much goodness to share."

And then one little boy said, "Well, I guess I like to build, but I'm not very good.  My stuff breaks a lot and sometimes, it's too hard to make it over."

To which I replied, "Me too.  I'm not very good.  At least, not all of the time.  In fact, not most of the time.  Sometimes, I write and write and write in my journal and the only good that comes of it is that I reminded myself that today was a 'Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day."  And that's okay.  But just when I think that I'll never write again, I can't help myself.  And, I just write a line or two, and then a flood of language comes pouring through.  Does that ever happen to you?"

They nodded.

The biggest lie we can tell is that our "making" in the world isn't worthy.  It is the very act of creating something, anything that wasn't there before that brings us relief from the practical and reminds us that we are more than punching a time card, getting our homework done on time, paying our bills, crossing milk off of the grocery list and mowing the lawn.

Putting pieces of our heart and mind and soul into the world is an act of love...a public service to the other.  A way of saying, "I'm here.  Meet me in this song, meal, book, painting, dance, conversation and help me feel alive."

I told my second graders that my home is filled with clay, chalk, paint, fabric, thread, a piano, movies, and more books, journals, sketch pads, Sharpie markers and paint than you can imagine.  I get tired of picking up all of the mini projects, but am inspired by watching my children put their heart into canvases on our walls and bits of stories and skirts and documentaries. 

We are all artists and the world needs us to color outside of the lines...to sing our song and to dance bravely, imperfectly together.