A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him the image of a cathedral. -Antoine de Saint-Exupery
It was hard work today, transplanting things that should have been dug up more than a month ago. But today was the day. Snow was coming, and that prospect forced action. A bank of Shasta daisies, four variegated grasses and a sage bush had to be relocated to make way for a stone wall. Every perennial in a summer pot had to be sunk in the ground—two rosemary bushes, hens and chicks, Creeping Jenny, and some thyme.
It was cold. My gloves soaked through and my hands froze. But I was happy. I could see the stone wall that was to come. I could envision the way Jenny would start to Creep down the stone garden stairs, the way the rosemary would thrive in the sun. That sun-bleached day was long over the horizon but I believed it would come, and I knew there was bitter winter work to be done today, right now.
Creativity requires enormous effort and we can give it when we have hope. You could call it ‘vision,’ the ability to see what is not yet a reality, but that word misses the pain and darkness that often attend any creative work over the long haul. What we need is hope, the capacity to know the end from the beginning, to see already in the snow the fragrant, sun-bleached rosemary perfuming its new home.
Such knowledge is ultimately reserved for God—“I make known the end from the beginning” (Isaiah 46:10)—but it can be ours in flashes. It is what I saw today. But I have also had many days when I could not make out the end at all. The narrative that arches between here and there had been erased. Then hope leans on trust, and the work goes on, usually because quitting isn’t an option. And the Creeping Jenny gets moved anyway and the sun rises and sets and one day it yellows into life and crawls down a stone step when no one is looking.
That happens again and again, in spite of our best or worst, and it is what teaches us to hope.
Spot on, David!
Absolutely wonderful David. Hope is everything. Thank you.
“Creativity requires enormous effort and we can give it when we have hope” such a great line of encouragement to anyone having an inspiration and completing it to the finish line! Thx David
I feel the same way… I leave gutters full of leaf debris until just before the deep freeze that would permanently cement that wet slurry to the gutter. And agreed 100% with the earlier comment on creativity. That’s an awesome perspective. Thanks David!
Perfect observation especially in this early January.
As I face yet another cover story for the little local magazine I edit and more on the book I am collaborative writing (to be published by a division of Hachette this fall!), this blog post couldn’t have appeared at a more perfect time. It is reassuring to read that you too know the “pain and darkness that often attend any creative work over the long haul.” So well said! It has become my constant companion these last two years as I’ve changed my life to write full time. It can be brutal. I’ve prayed a lot …and through hope and faith have made it to the other side each time …so far. You are a brilliant writer. Reading your words again is like meeting an old friend. My best to you and Pam!
Bravo on getting your book published–and by Hachette, no small house. Keep working, keep writing your way there.
Knowing some of the stone walls you are building these day I appreciate the pre work all the more. Everyday the light gets clearer and the picture being created takes form. Such is our hope and purpose.
Hope. Trust. Work. I needed that, David. Thanks!
Hi David,
I love the quote from Isiah and how you recognize that sometimes that narrative is either lost, or unseen. Trust and hope sustains is at those moments.
Thank you for sharing.
John Wall
Thanks for reading, John.