A few days ago we crossed over into spring. Where I was the magnolia trees had lost their minds. Flouncy, lacy, light pinks, deep sensual fuchsias, and those white ones in their architectural dresses.
They arrived. Brazen, fabulous.
I’ve been thinking of them everyday.
They are incredible every year but this year where so much precariousness is front and center I need them. I need their attitude and their beauty.
This had me thinking about what it means to be creative and how that actually looks in life over time. I think there is this idea that making and creative life culminates in a way that is visible, that is for an audience, that does something functional, legible, digestible.
And of course this may happen. And if it does happen. It happens through attention, care, and focus…but it also may not. The creative life and what it holds may look much more quotidian. It may be a personal re-enchantment with the world. It may be the way you prepare your food. Or walk each day, and that may go on for fifty years without a conclusion that leaves you or anyone else with a monument to it.
This is okay. And not only is it okay it is incredible, like the magnolias and their flashy show each spring. This is the work of re-enchantment and falling in love with the world. And I want to practice with you! In the next few weeks I’ll be announcing a series of classes about exactly this! It is for you. Lets re-enchant together!
Thank you for this. I literally started crying as I read it - the way one does when something has been eating at you but you didn't know what it was until someone said something that made the "unthought known" clear". All day I've been thinking "what if this is all I ever do with my life - is it enough". And then here you are saying "it's enough". Thank you Chelsea.