Art and Soup (Part 2)

“Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.” — Arthur Ashe

Here we are at the start of a new year. Some of us have just listened to an incoming administration speak of a so-called “Golden Age.” But as I look around, I don’t see the same golden light they do. My gut tells me to create. To paint, to make soup, to plant a garden, to build friendships and community. It doesn’t matter what—only that I create with all my heart, slow down, listen to my friends and neighbors, and help when I can.

My treetop studio in Carmel calls to me every day, exhaling a quiet sigh of satisfaction when I lock the door at night. The pull to paint, to explore new ideas, to let my mind wander is visceral. And yet, when I step through the door of my home into the arms of my spouse and son, I feel the weight of presence still pulling me in the direction of the studio . How do we hold both—the drive to create and the need to be fully present? And what do we do when creativity feels just out of reach?

The present moment is where all creativity begins. Plant your feet, take a breath. First, take off your shoes and slip into something warm. Then, ground yourself.

It takes courage to create. Sometimes it starts as a quiet hunger—a longing to gather with others, or to turn inward and listen to what’s knocking on the heart. It could be hunger for a warm meal, or for the simple act of making a mark, a color, a gesture of movement on a canvas. A shape appears from nowhere and reminds you of yoga, or a flower, or the time you sat on a porch with someone you loved. These are the moments that pull us into now.

The meal does not need to be grand. The art is not required to be a masterpiece. And in fact, you don’t get to decide what is a masterpiece. Labels like that can stop an artist in her tracks. The only expectation is to create. Because creating is your birthright.

What ignites your creative spark? And what holds you back?