MARCH 26
If you are an artist, it is work that fulfills and makes you
come into wholeness, and that goes on through a lifetime.
Whatever the wounds that have to heal, the moment of cre-
ation assures that all is well, that one is still in tune with the
universe, that the inner chaos can be proved and distilled
into order and beauty.
—MAY SARTONMay Sarton was speaking as a writer. But there are all kinds
of ways in which all of us make art in our lives—a splendid
photograph, a needlepoint pillow, a meal, a garden, the ar-
rangement of a room. The important thing is making some-
thing: taking words, colors, pieces of wood, seeds, or food
and arranging them in a meaningful and beautiful way. In
doing this we are showing ourselves that we are not undone
by the disorder our grief has cast us into. See—we can take
this, even this, and weave it into our life’s fabric.
So take a step. Make something. Perhaps something like
a poem or a painting can express your grief. Maybe a meal,
or a sweater, is more your style. A friend whose son had
committed suicide tells me that when she started to sew
some clothes for herself, she began to believe in life again.
Perhaps in some new work of my hands I will find solace and
meaning for my life.