Creativity, beauty, and the art of paying attention
I’m discovering, late in life, the quiet power of routine.
In 2019, I realized how little time and energy I was giving to my creative life—especially my art. To change that, I made a simple commitment: create one face each week for a year. Each piece reflected what I was facing that week—emotionally, spiritually, or creatively.
The project reshaped me. It grounded my practice and gave rhythm to my weeks, turning art into a meaningful ritual. That single year became three, and when I finally completed all those faces, I carried with me a new confidence and ease—a sense that creativity could anchor, not just adorn, my life.
Then, on December 31, 2025, I stumbled upon the work of Quinn Dombrowski, a Stanford professor who embroidered a year of their human connections, in symbols. Her project fascinated me. It showed how something as tactile as stitching could capture the intangible threads that connect us to our lives. (https://quinndombrowski.com/textiles/2025-in-people/)
That same day, I found an old quilt square—crafted more than a century ago by a woman I’ll never know—and decided to use it as the base for my own project: a year-long embroidered chronicle. I turned it into a table runner, divided it into sections to capture 365 days (my shaky math making the process a creative act in itself), and committed to marking each day through three lenses:
• What I did that was creative
• What I did to make the world more beautiful
• Whether I had “in real life”connection with others
My definition of creativity is broad. I’m a fiber artist, but I see creativity everywhere—in coaching, facilitating retreats, mentoring, cooking, organizing, writing, even in how I plan a day. Similarly, my effort to make the world more beautiful includes tending my garden, beautifying my home, or simply noticing small details that bring joy.
Seventeen days in, the impact is already profound. Each morning I begin by considering how creativity and beauty might shape the day ahead.
Each evening I end by reviewing what I created, how I added beauty, and then embroidering a series of small symbols onto the runner—a visual heartbeat of my days.
This rhythm has softened my old habits of overwork and perfectionism. My self-criticism has quieted. My mind feels lighter, my body calmer. My long struggle with overwork and perfectionism has lost its grip. Even with a full schedule, there’s no sense of panic. I can’t prove that this peace comes from my focus on creativity and beauty, but I know the power of intention. What I attend to grows; what I honor multiplies.
After more than fifty years of personal growth and healing, this new chapter feels miraculous. It’s a daily practice of building a creative life and a more beautiful world—stitched together, one square at a time.
