Every person has a self to express, and our children feel joyful when they are able to voice their inner realities. Once we have provided safety through structure and thoughtful limits, they are ready to boldly express themselves, as are we. We provide our children with the blank canvas, and then we must step back and allow them to fill it as they will. We give them the opportunity for self-expression, and we reward them with appreciation for their acts of creativity. Documenting their creations and discoveries, we promise to remember their efforts. Our delight in their endeavors teaches them that they are in fact delightful. This knowledge gives wings to their spirit.
When we provide our children with the tools and materials necessary to begin a project, we give them the freedom to begin making their own creative choices. Embarking on this journey, they are empowered to make something from nothing—to fill the blank canvas.
My friends Cindi and Jeff are energetic parents to four energetic boys. Their household is joyful, and I am struck by how creatively free all four boys are, despite their wide range of personalities.
“Children just want to make the people they love proud,” says Jeff. “They fear breaking the rules and coloring outside the lines, but only if others show displeasure with their choices. Rules regarding safety or respect for others make perfect sense, but arbitrary rules imposed to make adults feel comfortable may create artificial boundaries and choke off creativity.” The blank canvas that is provided, literally and figuratively, by my friends leaves room for their sons to develop each of their unique gifts. “Since creation is a bit of an act of rebellion,” Cindi says, laughing, “I like to encourage the inner rebel.” Their light touch combined with the obvious love for their sons gives their children a wide berth in which they may navigate their way toward specificity and originality, toward true expressions of themselves.
A friend of mine is a designer whose costumes have been seen on stages and screens many times over. She has built, over the long years of her career, an impressive studio, where she creates her designs. Bright and sunny and filled with every color and texture of fabric, buttons, and trimmings, it is a magician’s workshop where a sense that anything can happen seems to hang in the air. She routinely opens her doors to her nieces and nephews, allowing them to touch anything and everything.
“It’s fabric,” she says to me. “It’s visceral. It’s tactile. I tell my nieces and nephews that they can use anything they want, as long as they treat it with respect and clean up after they’re done. I’ll let them bring friends, and I’ll help them sew.” The children’s awe is clear when they enter the studio. I visited her recently and watched as she happily led the children through her stashes of treasures.
“This is silk from Japan,” she explained, as a young blond girl reached a chubby hand toward a bolt of shimmering dark purple and green. “Do you like this?” The girl nodded, eyes wide. She led the child to a globe situated in the corner, explaining where the silkworms had come from and pointing to the part of Japan where the fabric had been made. Cutting her a sample of the silk, she showed the girl to a table and began to discuss what they would make.
“I don’t have any problem giving away my supplies,” my designer friend tells me. “They can use anything here. Why not expose them to the best that there is and let them use what I am using? As long as I can instill an appreciation of the care that went into making it before it came to my studio, I am ensuring that they will go forward with an understanding of the artistry that preceded them. I believe that will inspire their own.”
Setting an example of how she understands and appreciates the complete process of her creations, my friend is exposing her young relatives to the life of a working artist. Seeing her hard at work, seeing the workshop where her designs are created from drawing to mannequin, and seeing the fruits of her labors worn by actors and models when they are complete, the children are gifted with the knowledge that artistic creation requires concentrated effort and discipline, not merely inspiration. Seeing each step and coming to know the many hours their aunt spends at work, they understand that a working artist is simply another working professional. They witness the creative process firsthand as drawings are thrown out, hems are resewn, cuffs are recut. By sharing her creative kingdom and making herself a living example of the journey from vision to creation, my friend is teaching these children enormous lessons of perseverance and passion.
As we provide the blank canvas, our own joy lies in sitting back and watching what will grow from it. Handing over tools and supplies, we then observe what our children will make with them. They will always surprise us. Sophy, organizing her children’s old toys for her three-year-old grandson, separated cowboy toys, monster toys, castle toys, and dinosaurs. Her grandson immediately shook things up, putting cowboys in the castle and monsters in her purse. “The one thing I know about my grandkids is that I don’t know what they’re thinking, ever.” Sophy laughs. “All I can do is open doors and let them know I’m excited about them walking through them. If they want to play with this toy or that one, or mix things up in a way I’d never think of, then I’ll certainly let them. And I’ll enjoy stepping back and seeing what emerges.”
As we consciously “step back and see what emerges,” we open ourselves to the magic of creation—the creations our children will conjure, as well as the creation of our children’s interests and passions. “Anything can lead to anywhere,” Sophy muses, a twinkle in her eye. “Let’s see where they go.”
THE CREATIVITY CORNER
An Exercise 
Create a “creativity corner” in your home where your child can go to begin projects. Stock this corner with assorted items that can provide inspiration—corks, Q-tips, toilet-paper rolls, sequins, glue, yarn, pipe cleaners, beads, tissue paper…As you find things in your home that may belong there, add them to the stash. If you do not have a corner free, the “creativity corner” could be a box or a shelf. The point is to designate an area where your child can find—and add to—an assortment of supplies to fill the blank canvas.
THE MAGIC OF CREATION
Children have vivid imaginations. They appreciate the magic of creation. Our job is to let them explore freely and to praise them for their efforts. The experience of making something from nothing, be it a work of art, a delicious dinner, or a page of pictures in our scrapbook, is the very definition of creativity. Creativity is a spiritual issue, and making something from nothing is a spiritual experience.
Left to their own devices, children will make something wonderful out of nothing. Free play expands the imagination. Domenica had a favorite toy horse that she “galloped” around the living room. One day, galloping was not enough. She opened the trunk containing her blocks, and she built a fence to contain her toy horse. The next day, she built a fence and a stable out of books. Now she had the makings of a story.
“It’s raining,” she announced, and put her toy horse into his stable.
“It’s not raining,” she announced, and took him back out to his corral. A few days later, Domenica added a second horse. “Friends,” she announced. It took nearly all her blocks to make a stable big enough for both horses.
“It’s raining,” she pronounced, as she placed each horse in shelter.
“That’s a good story,” I told her. She was proud.
As I write this, I speak with my friend who is vacationing with his family. “I’m watching my nephew,” he tells me. “We’re at the pool, and he’s learning how to build a sand moat from an older kid—maybe a six-year-old. My nephew’s mom, my older sister, is sitting back and watching. My nephew looks like he’s in heaven.”
He “looks like he’s in heaven,” I muse. I would argue that in some way, he is. No matter our age, our level of experience or expertise, our financial status or work situation, we can all, always, create something. Taking creative action puts us in touch with a higher power—call it God, the source, inspiration, nature, or even just optimism—and once we have begun, we are partnered by something greater than ourselves.
Watching children play, I see their focus and contentment. Playing alone, they talk to themselves or to their toys. They narrate what they are doing. To whom are they speaking? Is it really “just” to themselves? Or is there something in youth that is still closer to that greater source, that accesses it more immediately? And who are we to interrupt the conversation between our children and their higher power?
Whether we define the magic of creation literally—as in Creation itself—or as something else—perhaps a sense of possibility—we are talking about the same thing. I have often said that one of our chief barriers to accepting God’s generosity is our own limited notion of what we are able to accomplish. “With God as my source, all things are possible,” we say. Looking more closely at this sentence, what we are saying is that God is the source of our good, the source of ideas, inspiration, and clarity. And with God as our source, we are in the spiritual position of having an unlimited bank account. It is not God who runs out of ideas, or money, or hope. It is we who turn away, deciding that there is no more for us. This behavior—and it is a learned behavior, I might add—is one our children may not have yet discovered. To our children, all things are possible.
Many studies have been done on the benefits of positive thinking. “There are only two ways to live your life,” Einstein said. “One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” When people routinely gravitate toward possibility and hope, they often find it. In times of darkness, believing that the light is around the corner, they are resilient. I believe that this is not only a learned optimism, although optimism can and should be practiced; I believe that this is our natural state. What is more evidence of this than our children trying again and again when they are learning to walk? Trying again is, in itself, an act of faith.
When I teach, I often take my students through an exercise designed to uncover their own creative desires. “Blank piece of paper,” I tell them. “Now list ten things you love to do but do not allow yourself to do.” The lists are varied. “Lie out in the sun,” one person ventures. “Go out and get an ice cream cone for no reason,” another one chimes in. “Sing in public,” says another. “Sing in the shower!” a fourth says with a laugh. When we do this exercise, we often discover that there are many small joys we are denying ourselves that we could, in fact, enjoy. In exploring our own desires, we become more free. In becoming more free ourselves, we grant more freedom to our children.
Watching our children play, creating castles from sand or stables from books, we must allow our children their spiritual, creative experience. Worrying obsessively about how they will perform at their interview for preschool or whether they are listening to enough classical music, we turn them away from their own inventiveness. That inventiveness, which is unique and innate in every person, is the very thing that will lead them to experience a certain magic and, very often, what also sets them apart and ultimately helps them to excel and achieve their goals.
SPONTANEOUS CREATION
An Exercise
Tell your child a story. It can be real or made up, something from your life or someone else’s.
When you are done, ask your child to tell you a story. If necessary, give your child a simple prompt. “Tell me a story about a pony,” you may say, or “Tell me a story about your doll.” If your child has a favorite book, ask what happened before that story began, or after it ended. Listen attentively. Did your child’s story surprise, inspire, please you? Be open to the magic of what children will create.
Children explore all art forms. One day they may draw; the next day they may sculpt in clay; a day later and they’re making music or playing dress-up. As parents, it falls to us to praise all of their efforts. We may have a favorite art form, but we serve our children best by displaying no favoritism.
As often as we can, and as openly as we can, we must expose our children to the art forms available to them and allow them to explore, uninhibited. If we despised learning the clarinet in school because of a passionless teacher, that is not a reason to avoid the clarinet with our own children. Giving gifts of toy instruments to children as young as toddlers is an inexpensive and fun way to determine where their inclinations may lie. Taking them to the local children’s theater or art museum, we let them take in, without judgment, the many areas in which they, too, may wish to be creative. Handing them tools to draw, to sculpt, to make music, or to make up stories, we can observe the directions they gravitate toward and encourage their continued interest. Rarely does a child display a lifelong passion from the get-go, although it is not unheard of. More often, children dabble before committing. And even then, their interests will continue to change and morph. As we allow this natural progression of their interests, taking care not to insert our own buried dreams into their path, we clear a path for them to discover their own means of self-expression.
“My older daughter, Chloe, loves and excels in theater,” said Peggy. “But my younger one, Brea, seems to be interested in everything. I’m not sure where to start, or how to focus with her. So I let her pick a couple of activities each season, and I guess we’ll see what sticks.” Peggy took Brea to soccer, to ballet, to painting classes and violin lessons. She took her to the symphony, to the circus, to plays and musicals. “I don’t know,” Peggy confessed to me. “I can’t tell what she loves the way I could tell immediately with Chloe. Maybe it will expose itself later on.”
Peggy continued Brea’s general education, encouraging her in school and letting her know that any activity that her older sister participated in was also fair game for Brea. And then one day, at age eight, out of the blue, Brea began singing along with the radio. Loudly. “Her voice is huge,” Peggy told me. “I had no idea!” Brea kept singing along with the pop songs she learned from the TV and radio, delighting her family with her raw talent and naturally strong voice. “I don’t know where she learned this kind of breath control,” Peggy said. “I didn’t even know she could sing!” She enrolled Brea in voice lessons, and Brea is now excitedly learning more technique. She has already sung in front of her entire school. “I was so nervous in the audience,” Peggy said. “But Brea was fine up there. She didn’t seem nervous at all. I guess she’s found what she likes.”
Some children show us their interests more quickly than others. Some, like Brea, try many things before landing on something they truly desire to pursue. It is no surprise to me that Brea eventually found an artistic outlet, though. Peggy had set the stage for her to do so. With her gentle encouragement to “try anything,” Peggy taught Brea not only that she didn’t have to know what she loved immediately, but also that it was safe—and good—to experiment. No wonder that Brea is happy to stand up in front of her school and belt an Adele song into a microphone—a cappella, I might add. Her overall creativity was encouraged but not pressured. And when she did find her passion, it was allowed to come forth naturally. Finding her voice, Brea also found her own power and a piece of her identity.
As we seek to encourage our children in all directions, our telltale enthusiasms may creep through, despite our good intentions. I loved horses, and I was enthusiastic about Domenica’s herd of toy horses. I taught her to hold the reins correctly on her stick horse. On the other hand, I had to work at my enthusiasm for her musical efforts. In my household, I was the “un-musical” member of my family. My brothers claimed the piano—quite virtuosically, I might add—and I was more often reading or typing away, writing short stories in my bedroom. I gravitated to other things, realizing only later that I, too, had a passion for musical composition. And so, aware that Domenica deserved to play with music, too, I helped her build a drum out of an oatmeal container. She patted out rhythms, and I praised her efforts. She sang, and I sang along with her. We listened to the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, danced and learned the lyrics. And when she was a teenager, I wrote the lead in my musical for her.
Showing our children that they have the ability—and the right—to experiment in all art forms, we teach them that they have choices. We teach them to try new things without overthinking the consequences. Because there is no wrong way to experiment with a burgeoning creative endeavor, there is no judgment, no harsh consequence to follow. In the many people I have observed and the many interviews I have done with children who grew into creatively free adults, the most consistent story I hear is one of a parent who encourages early efforts. It is the attempt more than the product that we must champion. Artists are like athletes, returning again and again to practice. Teaching our children to practice experimenting, we teach them to charge into the world with optimism and faith in their ability to begin anew.
EXPLORATION
An Exercise
Take pen in hand. List five creative endeavors you could encourage your child to try. Put no pressure on the result of these efforts—the idea is just to put a toe in the water and see how it feels.
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Now list five creative endeavors you could try. These needn’t be time-consuming or expensive. They should simply take you slightly out of your comfort zone. For example:
I could buy colored pencils and draw the flowers in my neighbor’s window box.
I could write a poem.
I could sing a song for my child, even though I don’t think I can sing.
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Choose one item from your child’s list and one from your own. Try them.
DOCUMENTATION
On my dining room table, I have a picture of my daughter, Domenica, and her husband, Tony. In the picture, they gleefully hold aloft their marriage license. I treasure the picture and treasure the moment it represents. Close at hand is another photo, this one of Domenica and me, taken at a restaurant just before she announced her engagement. This moment, too, is a treasure.
Documenting our memorable moments is a pastime that can begin when your child is very young. I have two more photos of Domenica that I cherish. In one, she is two years old and she is seated atop a spotted pony while I lead her around the ring in Griffith Park, Los Angeles. In the second photo, Domenica is five. She is seated on her very first pony, Silver Lily, and her father stands just to one side, smiling proudly. Both of these photos belong in Domenica’s scrapbook—or, if you will, her memory book. A photo says, “Yes, this memory really happened.”
Now that we have digital cameras and the capacity to print photos at home, scrapbooks are easier to assemble. Not all of Domenica’s snapshots involve horses, but a great many of them do. Here she is at age seven, riding my sister’s mare Splash, bareback and no-handed. Horseback riding is a passion that we share and an art that she nurtures in her adult life. I suspect that it is a skill and enthusiasm that she will pass on to her own children as well.
As play becomes art becomes memories, we pay homage to our children’s creative endeavors. Six-year-old Brynne paints daily, adding to her large collection of works of art. “Her favorite pastime is creating huge, colorful paintings,” says her mother, Lidie. “I’ve taught her how to clean out the brushes when she’s done. She feels like a professional, setting up her paints and her easel each day, and taking care of her supplies ‘like a real painter,’ she says.” Brynne’s collection grows weekly, and some of the pieces are especially beautiful. “She’s very proud of them,” Lidie tells me. “And so am I—they’re amazing, some of them.” Lidie decided that it was time to create a sort of “gallery” for the fruits of Brynne’s labors. Lidie and Brynne took a trip to the craft store, choosing shimmering pink cardboard with which to cut out large letters. She hung the words “My Masterpieces” on Brynne’s playroom wall, and now has a rotating gallery of Brynne’s current favorites.
“We change the collection when we feel like it,” Brynne tells me. “When I paint something really good, I put it up and choose which one will come down. Just like a real gallery.” Brynne proudly leads me through her art museum, pointing out details of her paintings and explaining their origins and inspirations. As the curator of her playroom, Brynne is empowered and inspired. As Lidie continues to support her efforts by providing a beautifully designed display for Brynne’s art, she encourages energetic continuation of Brynne’s efforts. By documenting and acknowledging the art that our children create, we empower the precious fountain of creativity that exists within every child.
We live in a time when documentation is easier than ever before. Taking digital photos and uploading them to Facebook is an almost-instantaneous process that garners “likes” from our friends within moments. We can now share our children’s development and interests with friends far and wide, and observe their lives as well. Keeping a camera or cell phone in our purse or pocket, we are able to seize the moment in a casual and everyday way that ultimately builds a cherished canon of memories.
Today, Domenica and I look back over the photo albums we built together when she was a child. In one photo, she stands atop my shoulders wearing a party hat and grinning wildly. That party is for my friend Marissa’s daughter, Starlight. In the very next shot, Starlight is opening her presents. Domenica gave her a stick horse. The third photo shows Domenica guiding Starlight’s hands as she learns to hold the reins correctly. And in photo number four, Starlight is riding the stick horse as Domenica cheers her on.
Taking the time and trouble to make a scrapbook or photo album tells our children that the events of their life do matter. Gluing or taping images, we create a storybook, and our children are the stars. Now that Domenica is grown, she cherishes the photos of her childhood adventures. They give her a sense of continuity. Here’s a picture of Joanie, and one of Doris. She’s still in touch with both women, thirty years later.
“Look at Calla Lily,” Domenica will exclaim, singling out a photo of our snow-white standard poodle. “She was the best dog.”
The time and attention that it takes to assemble a scrapbook or photo album pays off not only for our children but for ourselves as well. After all, memory can be fleeting. Freezing the moments in time guarantees that we will not forget.
CAPTURING MEMORIES
An Exercise
Today, choose a moment, activity, or work of art to document.
Then allow your child to take a photo of her own, allowing her, too, to choose the moments that will last forever. Digital cameras provide us endless possibilities for viewing. We can upload the pictures to our computer, using them as screen savers. We can buy an electronic photo frame that loops through our memories. As we add to our collection, we can add them to the rotation, wherever we display it. Seeing the collection grow, we—and our children—relive and recherish the memories, inspiring us all to create more.