The Arts and Creativity

A second way you can make a difference -- to yourself and others

Storm on the horizon at sunset. Oil pastel on paper, 5.25” x 7.5”.

Last week was brutal, wasn’t it? No matter where each of us stands on the political spectrum, the violence that exploded in Utah and Colorado — both in the assassination of a prominent conservative influencer and in yet another horrific school shooting — affected all of us. The dominant fear expressed by many Americans is of destructive forces that are close to spiraling out of control.

I took some time to read a timeline of 1968, a momentous year I remember fairly well. I was 16 then, a junior in high school. Every night our television brought the Vietnam War into our home. My small upstate New York town was bitterly divided politically, and those divisions were reflected in my family as well. Boys I knew had been drafted and were already serving abroad; others were planning to declare as conscientious objectors. I still recall the reaction of disbelief and sorrow in class the day we heard that Robert Kennedy had been shot, but that was only one of many such announcements of shockingly violent news that year. We were young people who had grown up during the Cuban Missile Crisis and Cold War, for whom the assassination of President Kennedy had been a defining moment. The violent attempts to put down the civil rights movement, the deaths of innocent Black children and peaceful protesters in the South, the increasing protests against the Vietnam War and the killing of students on the campus of Kent State all made us all wonder if we would live to grow up, and what our world would be like if we did.

My own commitment to protesting injustice came out of that childhood and adolescence, shaped by these huge events. However, hand-in-hand with that intellectual and feet-on-the-ground engagement was a need to take care of myself and others — and I found this in the arts. Music was my main lifeline during those years, but I was also involved in the visual arts, and in reading and writing.

Looking back, I can see how the groundwork for who I became was laid long, long ago. However, it’s never too late to take up an artistic practice, learn a new skill, or revisit something you enjoyed when you were young. We just need the courage and commitment to do it. An advantage of being older is that we don’t care as much what others think. Do it for yourself, and don’t worry about how “good” you are. That isn’t the point.

We all need a space in every day when we can just breathe, think about something positive, beautiful, and hopeful, do something absorbing that we enjoy, and emerge re-centered and with new energy for dealing with life. Try to set aside the same time every day, whether it’s 15 minutes or an hour, and use it for something creative that matters to you: journaling, sketching, playing an instrument, dancing, sewing, reading literature or poetry, creative cooking, gardening, ceramics, woodworking — it can be so many things. But don’t do them while watching your screens. Set aside a time and a space and guard it as if it were a sacred, private ritual. What’s important is to make this work a practice, because then the doing will become a place you can go to, a place you can count on.

Studies are showing that one of the very best things you can do for your mental and physical health is to join a chorus. One of my good friends, 80 years old, took voice lessons for a while and is now singing in a large community chorus — and loving every minute of it. Another friend, who just turned 70, has signed up for line dancing, which she’s always wanted to do. Two others are into their third year of adult ballet classes. I took up the flute again after 50 years and am singing in the cathedral choir after stopping when the pandemic began; it’s not that easy to go back but I’m trying. My husband writes every day for his blog, in accompaniment to his photos — a new type of expression for him, and a new way to connect with others. The form doesn’t really matter. What all these pursuits provide is time set apart from the world, when we’re using different parts of our brain and our bodies. In the process, something precious in us is renewed and revitalized; we touch an intrinsic aspect of our humanity.

Public dancing in the street on a Saturday night, Mexico City.

There’s a personal and quite private side to creativity and the arts. But there’s also the public side — the joy of sharing what you love doing with others. Not everyone is going to publish an acclaimed novel or become a well-known performer. But most of us have opportunities to do creative work with others — whether it’s in community theater, singing in a chorus, participating in an art show, making something to give to others as a gift, reading aloud to kids, joining a book group or a quilting circle, taking a dance class. During these past months, I’ve found that doing music more seriously has been an especially rewarding path for me because it has both a private side (practice, analysis of problems, study and reflection, more practice) and a public one (working with other musicians one-on-one or in groups, performing, encouraging and mentoring). I can see how the music I create myself or with others is helpful to the listeners; how it creates an open space, set apart, that touches on beauty and offers a time of solace and renewal. And I want to emphasize that one’s effort doesn’t have to be perfect. When we, as amateurs, inevitably make mistakes, but smile at them and go on, doing our work with joy, that says something important to the listeners too.

Why is creativity so important, especially right now? Because it stands in complete opposition to the destruction, violence, and lack of caring that we’re witnessing every day, in politics, in society, and in the environment. When these dark forces enter our bodies continually, through the news, social media, and real-life conversations, they work destructively upon us, weakening our natural defenses — which are hopefulness, positivity, creativity, and love. And those negative forces are so pervasive now that unless we actively seek to strengthen our defenses, we’re going to feel overwhelmed, hopeless, exhausted, paralyzed, unable to resist. That’s the goal; that’s exactly where they want us to be. So I want to encourage you to do something involved with the arts, every day if you can, to remind yourself of the positive forces you have inside yourself and which have always existed throughout time, finding expression through human endeavor and inspiring us, no matter how many centuries stand between us and the creators.

Athena playing the aulos (ancient Greek double flute). Greek red-figure vase, 375-350 BC.