I craft photographs, and the occasional piece of embroidery, and sometimes wreaths and centerpieces. I prepare dinner and neat piles of folded laundry and poems. And the older I get, the fewer lines of demarcation I see between these acts of making. It is audacious to sing good words into the world, to smooth a pillow that will only be rumpled again, to pour an afternoon into stitches or a nourishing soup. To craft anything, to put our hands to the good work of gathering and forming is to say, “I am here. I’ve been loved. See. Touch. Taste. I love you.”
As she so often does, Carrie Newcomer said it better than I could, and put it to music. Give a listen?
joining, at least for today,
found via The Habit of Being