Drama & Blaze

Every skilled woman spun with her hands and brought what she had spun—blue, purple or scarlet yarn or fine linen.

—Exodus 35:25

When you make art, use what you have, what the world gives you. Use the first day of fall: cool nights and the smell of fire. Our kitchens are filled with the smells of apples bubbling into sauce, roasting squash, cinnamon, nutmeg, cider, warmth itself. The leaves as they spark into wild color just before they die are the world’s oldest performance art, celebrating one last violently hued hurrah before the black and white and silence of winter. Fall is begging for us to dance and sing and write with just the same drama and blaze.

Use your dreams and your secrets. Write a love song for someone who will never love you back. Write a comedy that used to be a tragedy, because you can create any ending you want for your own story. Write a song that says everything you’ve ever wanted to say to your father, or fill a canvas with all the things you hope you find out that God is, when you meet him someday. Dance till your feet bleed, sing till you’re hoarse, spill out all your stories like pouring wine into thin-stemmed glasses, the liquid rich and blood-red.