Admiralty

Please forgive my total misuse of the word admiralty which means a rank or office of an admiral, or the jurisdiction of courts or government concerning the sea or the British Royal Navy.

My meaning is nothing so formal or judicial, rather it is the place in my heart where I hold creative people in high esteem. I admire them, they belong in my admiralty.

I often tell my kidlets, ranging in age from 6 to 18, that creatives are my favorite kind of people. It matters not what genre or field in which they choose to doodle. Something happens to my heart when I witness a creation at the hands of a person who brought beauty into their world by their own hands.

My sister (Hi Nank!) comes first to mind when I think of creatives. For as long as I can remember she has been a visual artist, even designing her living space to fit her vision. Early on, she and our mom would paint her bedroom and change the bedding to satisfy an aesthetic itch. I credit our mom for our creativity and sense of humor. Smarts came from our dad. What gifts they left us!

Nancy (we have called her Nank since we were children) has recently built a cozy home in her new digs. Walls are covered with her original art. The kitchen was easily transformed from “apartment white cabinets” to an artist’s display of pottery by removing doors and applying fresh paint. Even scant greenspaces flanking the back and front doors have been transformed into secret gardens; all manner of gnomes, birdhouses and potted plants peeking from hidden spaces. Within her studio, new sketches and paintings appear. Daily.

It seems magic to me since I don’t possess that visual art skill, but to her it is as automatic as breathing (and as necessary). I believe we all have a bone, no matter how tiny, that itches to make beautiful or different or quirky things. People may say they do not have a creative bone in their body. Not true. We’ve been taught that a person only has value when they contribute in a financial way. What a lie.

Imagine a world in which all art disappeared. No museums. No public art. No flower beds. I would die on the spot should that happen. My vision of heaven is a wild explosion of every soul creating to their heart’s content for no other purpose than to fill their world with beauty.

I believe we are capable of bringing that heaven to our corner of earth. How? By intentionally filling our space with things which bring us joy and peace. Maybe it is only a cozy chair that affords a view of favorite mementos or offers a moment to meditate or listen to music. Is it selfish to shut out the worried world to such a degree? Or is it self-preservation?

Adding to our world rather than destroying it is never a selfish thing.

I created this colorful photo by arranging rose petals into a heart shape when they fell from a bouquet on my kitchen counter – beauty is everywhere

To me, a perfect world would be one in which every child was encouraged to express themselves by whatever means to which they felt led. Imagine that. Just imagine. Heaven.

I’ve had the absolute joy to see creation in action for the past two months while our daughter’s family lived with us. One granddaughter took to the piano, improvising songs with no hesitation. How I now miss the lyrical phrases that filled our space. The other created a world of people and houses and even motorcycles and horses with paper and tape. I mean life-size people and a motorcycle upon which she could pretend to ride. Our play time always included adventures, whether they unfolded on the park benches across the street or as we climbed Mt. Everest to the second floor. Peril and trouble ensued, but we always made our way safely to our destination.

I’ve been fortunate to find groups of creatives with which I can hang; small groups discussing The Artists Way by Julia Cameron, a drumming ensemble, museum lovers and many writing groups. Currently I spend my mornings with Café Writers, an online group that supports, teaches, challenges and encourages me every day. So many people have found their way into my Admiralty. Or did I find them?

Who belongs in your own Admiralty? Do they add or substract? I do not admire those who feel the need to deny rights, defund the arts, censor voices or books or undo voting rights. They are destroyers not creators. I don’t understand humanity. From the beginning of time one person has sought to vanquish another, often through horrifying means. To what end? Don’t they get that we are tromping on this earth for such a short time, their rewards are as fleeting as a firefly flickering above a summer lawn?

I can build peace in my heart by noticing creation of every sort and recognizing newcomers to my Admiralty. It is as easy as opening my eyes. And ears. Just this morning, a mother cardinal called to me from her perch on a chimney, the same chirp every five seconds. Soon a mockingbird joined in. I stopped, listened and gave thanks. For the moment, I was as carefree and happy as a bird adding beauty to her world.

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For those of you following the menacing misfortunes of Mandy Watkins, protagonist of my first novel THE ART COLONY, Friday’s post (chapters 10 -12) will find her mocked by seagulls and bullied by another artist as she and Fortune continue their struggles. Subscribers to this site receive email notices of new chapters dropped and can access them on the app.