Rosa Parks died today.

On a day I stood on a foreign seafront with my hood up and squinting, as rain pelted me and wind almost knocked me over. I stood and listened and watched as the waves hit the pebbles and roared a giant roar, although a roar that was barely audible over the grey wet weather.

Years ago someone sat on the very same beach with me and paraphrased the Bjork lyrics, “I tip-toe down to the shore, Stand by the ocean, Make it roar at me, And I roar back.” We were talking about our lives one night on those sea-strewn pebbles trying to make sense not only of the world around us, but of ourselves as well. The seaside has always had a restorative power for me, and today was no different. Except I remembered that conversation and wondered what the roar of every creative soul would sound like if bellowed simultaneously, how it would carry all over the world like a hymn or lullaby.

The words here are not for confessional. Although the internet has brought voyeurism to new heights, the issues I mention regarding my own life are not because this is a daily journal, I have other places and papers for that. I mention them more because they are central to how I am processing life, to how I am increasing my own roar at the sea, not out of anger, but out of hope. I am one of those incredibly stubborn individuals who cannot properly understand anything until I have fully comprehended every aspect, just as my fingers are often busy with yarn, my mind is often racing with questions.

I started this site/blog because of a connection I saw between creativity, craft and ethics. I was tired of channeling negative energy into a seemingly vacuous place and energized by the notion that I could put my creativity to good use. And I still am. I’m even happier to have discovered that I am not alone. While the focus has meandered like a country stream, creativity, craft and ethics are still at its heart. When I began, I had little idea that the path I was on wouldn’t change entirely, so I am happy that the core remains unchanged.

I am also not alone in trying to figure out how to weather my own storm, this tumult that seems to have descended among most of the creative souls in my life. As more and more people share with me their own creative journeys, pitfalls and triumphs, I am not only honored and humbled, but also curious. Everywhere I turn everyone seems in a state of flux, but thankfully not of frenzy, and most conversations I have these days are born of creative frustration, thankfully not just my own.

But, what does this have to do with Rosa? Circuitously, it is a reminder of two things:

1) Small actions/choices can do great things.
In making a choice to sit down on the front of the bus, a choice to sit down, quietly, Rosa Parks started something big. Every action is important, especially if born of courage and honesty.

2) We are not alone.
Not in a “there is life out there,” kind of way, but that if you, too, are reading this and frustrated and mad and scared and bursting with ideas and hope, it’s not just you. I’m not sure if maybe it’s some weird generational fluke or just the state of the world today, but it is regrettably all too common.

Rosa Parks has always been a heroine of mine for her way of creating change via a simple thing. Although there are many more whom I admire due to their refusal to react violently or negatively, Parks reminded us every thing we do holds power. Every choice we make, every word we speak, every creation that springs from our own two hands.