By Carmel Mawle
If we are, as some believe, created in God’s image, perhaps our greatest likeness is in the impulse to create worlds. Or maybe we are compelled to prove to the universe that we were here, that our little spark of soul added to the eternal bonfire of life. We are here, stacking stones in a cairn along the trail, or carving our initials in the white parchment skin of an aspen. Maybe our greatest choice is in how we leave that mark, whether to create beauty and uncover truth, or to create a karmic legacy through destruction and the infliction of pain. And what kind of mark will we leave? I’ve left both kinds in my wake.
Some of my earliest memories were of building worlds: towers of wooden blocks, streets and houses in the sand box, imaginary cathedrals of moss-covered earth with arches of translucent leaves reaching over my head in the Alaskan wilderness behind my family’s home. But I also remember sending my little sister’s block towers crashing to the floor. It wasn’t that I lacked empathy. I knew it would hurt her, and there was a little mean streak in me that took pleasure in that knowledge. Our sibling love was woven tightly around traumatic emotional wounds manifesting in small meanness, self-destruction, and escapism, the result of abuses beyond our control. Growing up meant working toward healing, and writing became an instrument of self-examination and transformation.
If we are granted free will, in the image of the creator, maybe our greatest decision is what we should create. Holocaust survivor, Viktor E. Frankl, author of Man’s Search for Meaning, said “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”
Many writers, maybe most of us creatives, feel deeply, identify deeply, empathize with the suffering of others. So here’s a question for my fellow writers and artists: In the face of this brutal regime, this destruction, how do you get up in the morning, get dressed, and pick up your pen? How do you lift the burden of the suffering world onto your back and step forward into the darkness? This is a question I have struggled with my entire adult life, to one degree or another. There has never been a shortage of injustice in the world. There have been times when I’ve lost the detachment that is necessary for self-preservation—when empathizing with the victims of occupation, starvation, or persecution meant days without sleep, periods when I was utterly distraught and could barely function. I suspect that many of you reading this journal will understand exactly what I’m speaking of.
The coping mechanism that I have turned to is focusing on positive change. That’s why, in 2011, I started the nonprofit Writing for Peace. Over the course of a decade, we published writers and artists of all ages, from every continent, empowering young writers to develop their writing skills, expand their capacity for empathy, and make cross-cultural connections. Until my mom needed more of my care, Writing for Peace created and sent powerful books out into the universe. Making a difference, even if it was a small difference, has sustained me. Did we save the planet? Not yet, but those young writers are still working on it.
In the same vein, I am working with volunteers to heal our Rocky Mountain forests. One hundred and fifty years of fire suppression has left our fire-dependent lodgepole forests overgrown and susceptible to the blights of climate change: drought, insects, and disease. Together, we work to remove dead and diseased wood, thin canopies to their pre-suppression state, and restore light diversity to the forest floor. Then we watch the native plants, animals, and birds return to their natural habitat. Did we reverse climate change? No, but the little bit we did makes the world a better place for the life it sustains.
Every day the current administration presents us with a new obscenity. An assault against our earth, against diversity, equity, and integration, against the disenfranchised, the poor, disabled, sick, and elderly. There is also an assault against truth, courage, and integrity. These strengths run counter to the oligarchy’s end goal, the raping and pillaging of the world.
None of us are perfect, but what does it mean when, instead of creating beauty or wisdom, we actively and intentionally ignore the science that points to climate change? What does it mean when we hoard wealth, willfully creating pain and suffering in the world? What we create says something about who we are and the pain we carry. It’s possible that the destruction we see at the national level is the result of earlier suffering, men and women who were the victims of cruelty by absent or abusive parents. Wounded themselves, is echoing that cruelty the only mark they are capable of making? It my be the most difficult thing they ever do but, yes, I believe they have a choice. At any moment, any one of them could change course and stand up for our democracy.
In the meantime, the rest of us are faced with a choice of our own. How will we respond to this authoritarian onslaught? I’m struggling with this. My life circumstances are not conducive to marching or resisting in some of the ways I could when I was younger. There have been times that I’ve felt paralyzed by the overflow of emotion. I couldn’t write, so I picked up a brush. I mixed pigment into water and watched it flow onto the page. I’m not a great artist, but I am creating something counter to the evil that permeates our reality right now. Painting trees and mountains, sunrises and sunsets reflecting off cumulus clouds, helped me to remember that, no matter what happens, the beauty of this world far outweighs the ugliness. It helped me find my voice again, return to the novel that I’ve been working on for years, to words on the page.
None of us will live forever. Ultimately, each of us will leave a mark on this universe and add to the collective conscience. Will we work to heal generational suffering or will we perpetuate patterns of abuse? Will we choose to create beauty or pain? The choice is ours. If I believe in anything, it is in the power of writing, of painting, sculpting, making music, and art of any kind to shine a light on truth. Art allows us to walk a mile in another man’s moccasins, to create empathy. And I believe empathy leads to courage, the strength to turn away from comfort and safety, wealth and reputation, to risk everything to do the right thing.
The Importance of Arts, Culture & The Creative Process
If I believe in anything, it is in the power of writing, of painting, sculpting, making music, and art of any kind to shine a light on truth. Art allows us to walk a mile in another man’s moccasins, to create empathy. And I believe empathy leads to courage, the strength to turn away from comfort and safety, wealth and reputation, to risk everything to do the right thing.
What was the inspiration for your creative work?
There have been times that I’ve felt paralyzed by the overflow of emotion. I couldn’t write, so I picked up a brush. I mixed pigment into water and watched it flow onto the page. I’m not a great artist, but I am creating something counter to the evil that permeates our reality right now. Painting trees and mountains, sunrises and sunsets reflecting off cumulus clouds, helped me to remember that, no matter what happens, the beauty of this world far outweighs the ugliness. It helped me find my voice again, return to the novel that I’ve been working on for years, to words on the page.
Tell us something about the natural world that you love and don’t wish to lose. What are your thoughts on the kind of world we are leaving for the next generation?
I find my inspiration for creativity in the Colorado Rocky Mountains, my spiritual and literal home. Those of us who live in a forest community have a responsibility to educate ourselves about forest management and fire mitigation in order to preserve this beauty for future generations.
