I posted this on social media today, and wanted any of you who are not social media browsers to be able to see it. It’s a lesson that took me far too long to learn. But it now enriches every day.
So, I’m 70 years old today. And it occurred to me: I’m an artist and, strangely, also a work of art. So are you. My life is full of attempts and erasures and start-overs. I’m a painter, sculptor, and composer, an author and architect, a dancer, an actor, a gardener, even a puzzle creator and solver. And so are you. There’s no museum for what we do, and no set awards or prizes with ceremonies beamed across the globe. But there is the great and wonderful satisfaction of the art itself. To live is, at its best, to love and create, to create with love, and to love the creating, even when it’s just a start and will need a retry and restart. It’s good to learn to release all the rest. That’s one gift we can give ourselves.
