Almost 20 years ago, a cute guy smiled at me in a new coffee shop, in my new neighborhood. Besides, his smile, I was drawn to him because he was drawing. On our first date, he brought me a rose, freshly cut from his mother’s garden, First Prize, a fluffy, sanguine blush. A week later, I collected a bundle of autumn leaves and grass*, and tied them together with a torn-page-piece from my journal – the entry illegible, but provocative nonetheless. He sketched me a pear and a castle. I gave him a piece of dried kelp. We found each other through our findings. We connected with our creations.
The first time I walked into his art studio, I was mesmerized: the colors, the forms, the sanctity of space - canvases full, bursting with ripe fruit. I asked him today to tell me what he noticed the first time he walked into my space. It was that I, too, created. I collected and made art of driftwood, sticks, stones, shells, and bones.
Our passions were romantically stirred. Now, they are stirred in other ways. We are called to passionately stand up, to passionately speak up, and to passionately stay strong. As this spurs, let's not forget to love each other, and to show each other how much.
Let this be a Valentine's call to arms. Your arms. Around another.
We are all makers. Everyone is creative and resourceful. Express your love with something made from the heart. Show someone you’re thinking of them with something you found on the beach. Write a poem. Draw a pear. Whether art from your heart or another’s, give meaningfully. Give passionately. Remember your first connection…