Happy Father’s Day!

William J. Knipe

The Fire Inside

Chapter Twelve: Moments of Truth

“My life is my message.” —Mahatma Gandhi, Mahatma: Life of Gandhi

Although my father was a private person, his beliefs were evident in how he treated the earth, as if it were holy, and in the many ways he applied the wisdom of nature to his life. He didn’t just think about how he valued the planet, he lived out that basic precept in the activities of each day, his life exemplifying what he believed. Coming from the old school of farming, he recognized that all things mattered, that the world consisted of intricate, interwoven elements and he was a vital part of that design.

For over fifty years, Dad worked the land, keeping his family afloat when times were rough. Like many farmers who had to make do, he used his imagination—rigging baling wire, sheet metal, and assorted pipes to repair equipment. Everything was recycled. He figured out how to use parts of an old sundial, re-purposed a leaky bucket into a watering can, a discarded mailbox into a tool shelf. Before it was fashionable, he found inventive ways to collect rain water. His creative mind was evident in the way he designed his fields: the symmetry of the terraces he carved, the fine stitching of yellow threads connecting green quilt blocks of land. Whatever Dad did, he did so appreciating the gift he was given, remaining true to what he saw as his role as caretaker of the earth. My father didn’t talk much about what was going on inside him, but sometimes I saw him staring out across the land, taking in the hills, the little grove of trees, the creek, each of the images in his field of vision a moment of truth, an affirmation of the part he played as protector and master craftsman of his small plot of ground.

We all experience moments of truth: intuitive inner feelings, feelings of ecstasy and inner awareness that confirm that we’re on the right path—or suggest we need to try something new. But how do we recognize them? A poster for an art exhibit catches your eye and, for whatever reason, you keep thinking about it. Or you view a photography exhibit of wild turkeys in flight and are astonished. These moments keep showing up. And you realize that they are relational— connected to you in some meaningful way, pulling at you. Perhaps you read an article about children in Flint, Michigan experiencing the effects of lead poisoning, and realize how directly their plight relates to the children of alcoholics you once taught. You feel a tug in your heart. All children matter. You wonder what you can do. These feelings stick, sweep over you while you’re doing the laundry or watching a soccer game, and you know that you need to write, that your printmaking is waiting for you in your artist shed. Your paints are lonely.

You carry within an ancient wisdom that directs you, leads you to a life of fulfillment and promise. And you alone can turn on those moments of truth, transforming them into moments of creativity. Feel the power, the joy, and accept that you, too, are a master craftsman contributing to the beautiful makings of the universe.

“The Fire Inside” Creative Exercise:

Some of us were honored with a father who cared for us and others had a person in their lives who played the role of a loving father. If you were to write a tribute, or use your specific creative gifts to paint or draw images of your father, what would you create? To begin, consider making a list of words that describe him. Or, write down the images that you best recall. Where were you? How much light was there? Who were you with? What were the feelings that arose? How was your father a hero to you? Now create, using all your senses to make the words or images vivid and memorable.

For more inspiration, go to thewritingandcreativelife.com.