Well, this is the fourth attempt I’ve made at writing today’s episode. Why? Because today is my mom’s 62nd birthday. And it’s not fair that we’re celebrating it without her here. But rather than share an old essay, take the day off, and pretend today isn’t happening, I’m going to share with a simple piece of advice she shared with me that changed my life.
When life was too heavy for me as a kid and teenager, my mom would push me toward something creative. It didn’t matter the medium; it could have been music, sports, cooking, reading, writing. Going for a walk and daydreaming. In the face of mental exhaustion and too much pressure in my life, Mom reminded us to take things with levity and an eye for beauty.
Sometimes that meant she would spontaneously take us to the ocean for the weekend to live without expectation, or teach us how to cook a new meal. As a chef, my mom used no written recipes. If we wanted to learn her dish, we had to prepare it with her. Sometimes she partnered with us in the act of creation, but most often, she invited us to explore what creativity meant for us.
The act of creation is a gift every person inherently possesses. Whether we create space, visual artistry, puzzles to be unraveled, or meals to enjoy, creation is a weapon against the black hole of depression and despondency. Grief is full of moments like this – for example, I have three unfinished essays, without a purpose and with no intention to finish them. Trying to put the right words in a meaningful order just doesn’t always work.
Last May, a friend asked what I would be doing for myself in the time between our soccer seasons. As a coach, I’m with my team and players 9 months out of the year and once the games begin, my hobbies take a back seat. While she thought it was a bold question on her part, I had already asked myself the same thing. After years of storing the supplies, it was time to pull out the easel again. I wanted to revisit my love of painting, although not how I did before. And part of that meant choosing to paint just for me. Not for the internet likes, not to sell the pieces as a side business, but just as an act of creation. When my friend lovingly asked me how I would ensure I wasn’t adding artwork as another income stream, I quickly told her, “It’s easy. You just repaint the canvas white.”
Her horrified look embodied the sentiment so many have toward creativity. If you create something, shouldn’t you cherish it for a lifetime? Shouldn’t it be a permanent fixture? A beacon and arrow pointing back toward that time you invested in the act of creation and playfulness?
If there is one thing I understand about grief, it is that we are but blips on a radar. Why would the creations we manifest need to be anything more? We have such a strong pull toward legacy, and while I greatly agree with building a legacy for a life well-lived, this is the act of creation. Creation and destruction and impermanence and the ephemeral are inexplicably interwoven and when I make the decision to step into the cacophony of creative ideas in my brain, it is an approach of humility that says, “I will be here with you, in this creative space, and when I am spent and this experience is ready to end, I can honor the grander reason for creation by allowing it to be enough, just to have been at all.”
This is uncertainty. This is trusting that not only will the act of creation be in itself a grand exploration of things I will never fully understand, but it will also be a moment of freezing time just for me. To slow down the spin and quiet the noise and lean into the gift of play. For this time, I will embody joy like I never have before. And when it feels right, I will step back and appreciate the depth with which I explored the universe through my own little lens on my own blank canvas. Creativity is an act of defiance against the status quo – against the addiction to certainty. Creativity confesses that something is not right, but perhaps I can make it feel a little bit safer anyway.
My mom never explicitly said to me, “Go do something creative today,” but it is still one of my favorite lessons from her. She embodied the pursuit of a life lived creatively: pivoting when necessary, building grand celebrations for the smallest moments, and inviting us to witness and partner with her in creating a life worth living.
I can accept that you’re gone, because you’re not. Your legacy remains, no matter how many hard moments I experience or difficult memories I have to work through. And on this day, I hope in a lot of things. May every one of them be an act of defiance, of rebellion, of creation. Of life.
Thank you for listening to episode 148 of Restorative Grief. A bit more personal today, and for that, I am grateful you’ve remained and listened to the whole piece. I wasn’t joking – that was my fourth attempt to write something real for today and they are all wildly different essays! Ultimately, it was remembering the beauty in the act of creation (which includes writing, of course) that allowed me to recognize what I really needed to say. So do me a favor, and do something creative today. The size of your creative act can be infinitesimal, because it is for you and any act of creativity opens us to more beauty and possibility.
If this is your first time listening to the show, what an episode you chose to try out first. I hope you sense a pull toward something new and creative within and that you’ll make this podcast a regular part of your grief and growth work. Please take a moment to leave a review and subscribe to the podcast so you won’t miss any upcoming episodes. If you want more information about Restorative Grief, check out the show notes for links to the Patreon and the free online coaching group.
And as always, before we go, one last thing. Please remember, the only solution for grief is to do the work of grieving. Thank you for listening. I’ll see you next week. And happy birthday, Mom.
Links + Resources from this episode:
- My favorite art supply company
- Resources for grief support
- The Restorative Grief Project
- Join our Patreon