Today, I feel more hope. I don’t know why. I don’t know what drags me into the spiraling abyss of despair or what pulls me out of it. But today I had the day off and I spent it knitting while listening to The Fountainhead on my iPod or watching the documentary “Buck,” which is fabulous, by the way. Using my hands and creating something, whether it’s a knit hat from a pattern or a portrait painted from oils (which I haven’t done in years) or a clay sculpture (which I also haven’t done in years and particularly miss) is like food for my soul. Working at Victoria’s Secret (anything that is driven by profit) slowly and steadily starves my soul and once in a while I remember that creativity I can touch begins to negate that the way exercise counteracts laziness.
I used to wonder at the idea that my fellow artist friends who are Christians would talk about feeling they were worshiping when they were painting or sculpting or whichever, because I never felt a sense of worship when I did art, and then I finally realized it wasn’t any one painting or another, or this bowl or that alabaster carving that was the connection. It was the very act of creating that connects artists to God. Always be creating. Of course. It would make sense. After all, wouldn’t God simply wither away if she ever for even a moment stopped creating? The creativity of God is astounding.
Also I got Mastering Skateboarding in the mail today, so I opened it up, read the brief words on balancing and feet positions and pushing the skateboard forward, and then went out and practiced. It’s so much fun.
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