The World Is Still Ours to Create

“What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult to each other?”— George Eliot, Middlemarch

I was having lunch with two friends recently when I confessed something about myself.

“I am a bit manic about getting these books finished,” I told them, “because I don’t know how much time I have left.” Lately I've been hunched over my computer, pulling out old stuff - revamping it, creating new things. Asking AI to make new illustrations and put some books into Mandarin or Spanish or a graphic novel. My head is swimming. Amazon independent publishing is helping (mostly) to bring this all to life.

We are all in our later decades of life, old enough to know that time is precious and that “someday” can be a rather unreliable appointment. I wasn't looking for sympathy. I was trying to explain this almost irresistible urge to finish the books that have been taking shape in my mind and put them out into the world.

Suddenly, one of my friends, a singer, leaned forward enthusiastically.

“Thank you!” she exclaimed. “That is exactly why I want to do my next concert!”

We laughed, delighted to discover that we were feeling something similar. She had music she wanted to share. I had stories and ideas I wanted to give away. Neither of us was quite finished offering what we had to offer to the world we see today.

I've been thinking about that conversation ever since, especially now, in the aftermath of the elections.

Some of us are madly celebrating the "Blue Wave." Some are disappointed, worried, or even discouraged. Others are simply relieved that the campaigning is over. Elections matter enormously. The people we elect will make decisions that affect our families, our communities, and the kind of country we become.

But whoever wins an election, something important remains in our hands. We still get to participate in creating the world around us.

And that brings me to a question that seems especially worth asking right now: What kind of world do we long to live in, and what might we enjoy contributing toward making it real?

Years ago, Jim Lord wrote a book called What Kind of World Do You Want? I love the invitation in that question. It moves us beyond describing everything that is wrong and invites us to imagine what could be right. Instead of waiting for someone else to create the future, we begin to recognize our own possibilities for shaping it.

We don't have to be politicians, wealthy philanthropists, or famous artists. We don't even have to be especially ambitious. We simply have to notice what matters to us and what we might enjoy bringing into being.

My lunch conversation led me to look at the books I've been writing, almost as though I were meeting them for the first time. What was I trying to accomplish with all these stories, reflections, adventures, and sometimes rather peculiar characters? What did they have in common?

I began to see a pattern.

In The Community Meal, I wanted to celebrate what happens when people gather around tables, share food, and begin to recognize one another as neighbors. In The Compassion Circle, I explored how ordinary people can create communities of care. Both books grew from experiences in Cashmere, where I have repeatedly witnessed the remarkable things that happen when people feel welcomed, needed, and valued.

In Three Grandmothers, a Cashmere mystery, I wanted to explore something that has become increasingly important to me: our capacity to see one another differently and to grow beyond our regrets. The story includes an unusual man who is easily overlooked, three grandmothers who become involved in his life, and a woman who discovers that she may still have another chance to love. I wanted to put into the world the possibility that we need not be forever defined by the opportunities we have missed.

Other books took me in different directions. Skull's Magical Pursuit of a Bulletproof Brain uses humor and a bumbling character to explore resilience and wisdom. Good on You is about developing a sturdy self, a warm heart, and a good life. The Very Good, Delicioso, Exactly-Right Day celebrates the possibility of finding delight even when things don't go according to plan.

My Kindness Critters stories invite children and adults to imagine kinder ways of living together. Survival, a wordless picture book, asks us to consider the consequences of our choices and the possibilities of peace. Growing a Good Life Together encourages parents, grandparents, and other caring adults to help young people become wise, courageous, compassionate human beings. Mind-Bending Chats with Great Thinkers invites us to question what we think we know and remain open to changing our minds.

Looking at them together, I realized that I have been trying to put something quite consistent into the world: the belief that human beings have a remarkable capacity to grow, to become wiser, to care more deeply, to find joy, and to create good lives together. But I guess when all is said and done, the George Eliot quote holds a lot of thoughts about what I want to put into the world. What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult to each other?

Perhaps that's why I feel so eager to finish these books. I want those possibilities to travel beyond me, to find their way into other people's imaginations and perhaps into their lives.

And then I remembered another book I wrote years ago, Becoming Artists of Life: 52 Weeks of Creativity, Courage, and Living Well. In some ways, it may be the book that brings all these longings together. I wrote it a few years after I finished my coaching certification.

Its central idea is that we are all artists of life (my friend wrote a song that's in the back of it). Our lives are not blank canvases, of course. We inherit circumstances, responsibilities, limitations, and unexpected challenges. Sometimes life hands us colors we would never have chosen. But within those circumstances, we still have opportunities to create, experiment, respond, and express something of what matters most to us.

The book offers 52 weeks of stories, paintings, reflections, and invitations to experiment with living. It isn't a program for becoming a better person by working harder. It is an opportunity to become more curious about the life we are creating. What gives us energy? What do we love? What are we learning? What might we want to try? What could we bring into the world that would give us pleasure and perhaps enrich someone else's life?

A year of paying attention can reveal possibilities we might otherwise overlook. And we don't have to wait until January to begin.

My singer friend has her music. I have my books. But what about the rest of us? Famed psychologist Abraham Maslow said something that has become a famous quote in some coaching circles:

"A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write, if he is to be ultimately at peace with himself. What a man can be, he must be."

It's about self actualization. (And later he wrote about the next step beyond that, self-transcendence - they may be more closely related than we realize. Maslow later theorized about self-actualizing transcenders who are practical, grounded doers with a deep ability to perceive the sacred in the ordinary and live with deep synergy toward humanity. )

Perhaps you want to create a garden that gives your neighbors pleasure as they walk past. Perhaps you want to bring more laughter into your family, teach a grandchild something you love, make beautiful quilts, preserve family stories, or organize a gathering where people who seldom meet can become friends.

Perhaps your longing is for a kinder neighborhood, a more welcoming church, a healthier environment, or a community where lonely people find companionship. Maybe there is something you have always wanted to learn, a place you want to explore, a friendship you want to renew, or an experience you want to share.

I was listening to a Cashmere Superintendent of schools yesterday at Rotary. It was clear that he saw retirement in sight and wanted to leave everyone with his parting words that went something like I don't care about the far left or the far right (or maybe it went more like "I don't give a damn about the far left or far right."). Public school is the foundation of our democracy. And yes your kids might hear an idea that's different from what you agree with, but above all, let's work together for the good of our kids. His passion was palpable.

And perhaps you aren't quite sure what you want. That's all right, too.

Sometimes our longings have been buried beneath years of doing what needed to be done. We have been busy raising children, earning a living, caring for others, meeting obligations, or simply getting through difficult times. We may have forgotten to ask ourselves what delights us or what we would love to create.

This is where I think we can begin, gently and without turning another good idea into another obligation.

We might spend a little time imagining what we would love to see more of in the world. More beauty? More kindness? More music? More curiosity? More opportunities for children to flourish? More people feeling that they belong?

Then we might ask ourselves what we especially enjoy giving. Some people bring energy and enthusiasm. Others bring steadiness, humor, hospitality, imagination, practical skills, or the wonderful ability to listen without immediately offering advice. Sometimes a friend can help us recognize gifts we have taken for granted.

And finally, we might choose one small experiment. Not a grand resolution or a demanding five-year plan. Just something that allows a longing to begin taking shape.

My friend might call the accompanist about her concert. I might finish another chapter. Someone else might invite a neighbor for coffee, sign up for an art class, plant a few bulbs, or begin recording a family story.

One small beginning often leads to another. And sometimes the pleasure is as much in the creating as in the finished result.

There is something else I want to emphasize. Our contributions need not remain the same throughout our lives.

At one stage, we may have the energy to organize a community project. At another, our contribution may be a thoughtful telephone call, a letter of encouragement, or the wisdom we share with someone younger. Sometimes we give care; sometimes we receive it graciously, allowing another person to experience the pleasure of giving.

We do not lose our capacity to contribute simply because our circumstances or abilities change. Nor must every contribution be useful in some solemn, measurable way. The world needs music, humor, celebration, playfulness, and beauty. It needs people who know how to make an ordinary Tuesday feel like a special occasion.

And it needs people who know when to rest.

I hope none of this sounds like another assignment. There is already enough pressure in our lives to be productive, improve ourselves, and accomplish more. I am suggesting something much more inviting: that we pay attention to what is stirring within us and give ourselves permission to explore it.

We may be surprised by what we discover.

The elections are behind us now. Some outcomes may please us; others may trouble us. We will continue to care about public decisions and do what we can to influence them. But our capacity to shape the world does not begin or end at the ballot box.

Every day, in ways large and small, we help create the atmosphere in which other people live. We influence what it feels like to be a child, a neighbor, a friend, a stranger, or a person growing old in our community.

I keep thinking about my friend's delighted response at lunch. She recognized something in my urgency that connected with her own longing. And her enthusiasm helped me recognize something about mine.

We had given each other a little encouragement to keep creating.

I look forward to her concert. I intend to keep writing my books (I won't be blogging as much during November, but feel free to check out what I've created at Amazon. Search "June Darling."). And I find myself wondering what longings are waiting to be noticed in the people around me.

What would you love to put into the world? What might bring you joy in the creating? What would you like there to be a little more of because you were here? For John is all about LOVE.

Whatever your age, whatever the election results, whatever your circumstances, there may still be something wonderful waiting to take shape.

The world is still ours to create.