creativity heals

Thunderous barking pierced the cozy predawn silence when Jake heard the scrunch of tires on the gravel driveway. So much for rest. Jake stood barking like a dog shaped cannon until I pushed open the screen door latch on the back porch and He shot off into the darkness looking for the source of the scrunching noise. He disappeared waging his tail, trotting off fifty yards finding an old friend parked on the driveway as I tucked in my shirt tail spilling coffee while I walked towards the truck.

Sam Whitefeather's  tall lanky silhouette  leaned over the tailgate, grabbed a stick out of the  old truck bed and threw it hard away from where Jake had come. Jake skidded  wheeled around  and streaked toward the blurred object flying away from him in the dark. Jake was back with the stick in seconds. Jake didn't know he was missing a front leg, he was born that way. Sam stared at Jake and didn't say a word, he watched him sit still, holding the stick in his mouth concentrating on the present moment and nothing else. Dogs are great teachers that way. Sam petted his friend and opened the truck door and a wet Jake jumped in and shook off.  Stars receded into the sky breathing life into another day on the farm. On the opposite side of a meadow covered by ground fog, a song bird whistled  through the trees. 

I climbed in the truck smelling of wet dog and we rolled slowly through the pasture to begin feeding the cows. Each "gap" or opening in the fence came with a lesson. Some gaps required strength and others a softer touch and and a little ingenuity. I waded through the wet grass feeling my boot leather soften as we navigated the fences. My thick socks held the dampness at bay as hungry cows slowly bellowed and materialized around us. Sam walked up to a cow he called willow, scratched her head and asked, "willow my friend, when's the baby coming?"Willow nodded her head approvingly. Sam turned, and translated for me. 'the calf is coming tonight.'

These words were healing for me to write. Being creative is healing. I choose to express my creativity with words like those above. Any creative process will have the same result, art, acting, music, anything. Human nature is to be creative. It is an expression of our soul.  The creative process engages the right side of the brain where we are in the now, free to bring the expression of a thought into form.My grand mother used to say: Count but the pleasant moments. It’s a healing statement.Being creative is part of who we are as humans beings and part of why we come into this world.

         Go out and be creative and heal yourself.