Being Made By Your Making

The process of creativity is full of mystery, not only for we who enjoy the creations of others, but also for those of us who create. The language we use to talk about creation is full of examples of this mystery. If we are artists, we might talk in terms of “creative process” which demonstrates a sort of ambiguity. It’s rare to hear an artist talk about a clear progression of steps they follow in order to make their art, except in the most general way. For example they may say, “I start by going for a walk, noticing something, or asking a question of my experience of the world.” They may then proceed to sketching, drafting, doodling, or thinking out loud about the topic, unsure of where it will take them.

To a person who doesn’t think of themself as an artist, this may seem too haphazard or cryptic to understand. Many folks who don’t think of themselves as artists will say something as definitive as, “I’m not a creative person” or “I don’t have an artistic bone in my body.” All the while, they solve problems for family or work, tell stories to the young ones in their life, and get lost in favorite songs or books. They make dinner, make beds, make friends, make time, make love, make believe. It seems to me that far more of us, really all of us, are makers. And the things that we make also make us.

If you’ve ever made something with your hands (or some other part of your body) you perhaps know what I’m talking about. In the most direct way, tools, other people, materials, all push back on us when we push them. Soft hands on a rake are left worked over nearly as much as the ground. Shoveling snow continues to work on a back long after the tools are put away. Conversations form our minds and hearts long after the words have stopped. These dynamics are often just as hidden from our understanding as those we honor with words like art and creative process.

There is wisdom available to us when we cultivate awareness of the forces at work through us and on us. We can recognize the patterns, habits, and story-living that shapes so much of our unconscious life. Wise awareness allows us to trust the mysterious nature of creativity while developing practices for participating according to the deepest integrity of our values. In such practices there is joy and delight beyond what we often believe is available to us.

So I wonder what I’m making today, and what’s making me? How are these forces at work in my family or my vocational context? What creative processes form the communities in which I’m involved and implicated? Where am I sore, bent, bruised? What am I becoming? May wisdom, compassion, and joy fill these spaces.

(listen to this poem for free on Patreon)

By Your Making

There is no other way

to build a vessel

than to do so

To be pushed upon by the timbers

and woven by the sinew

To wrap the rib cage in muscles

and boards in skin

To be steamed, tied, molded, and dried

To be torn, flesh and bark

To bend so far that catastrophic failure