Swords and Plowshares/The Joy of Creating
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"And God saw everything that he had made, and, behold! it was very good."
OH, the joy of the craftsman, the joy of the Father-Creator!
Have you ever chanced unexpectedly upon some for-gotten piece of your own work and found it a true bit of yourself, standing alone, with its share of your pride and self-sufficiency, making no apology for itself and needing none, thrown off from you to follow its career, like a perfect, well-poised planet?
Then you know the delight of seeing your dreams take substance beneath your fingers; you know the thrill of striking the right line, of lighting upon the right word, of overcoming difficulties and working the difficulties into your task and making it all the better for them.
You know the joy of watching beauty and use take shape through you and of wondering how it could have come through you.
Of seeing your work grow of itself like a live thing and prove even fairer than you dreamt, suggesting new departures to you with filial loyalty and reacting upon you and making you better in turn.
Oh, the joy of good work (the only good works)—the joy of the Father-Creator!
Have you ever chanced unexpectedly upon some for-gotten piece of your own work and found it a true bit of yourself, standing alone, with its share of your pride and self-sufficiency, making no apology for itself and needing none, thrown off from you to follow its career, like a perfect, well-poised planet?
Then you know the delight of seeing your dreams take substance beneath your fingers; you know the thrill of striking the right line, of lighting upon the right word, of overcoming difficulties and working the difficulties into your task and making it all the better for them.
You know the joy of watching beauty and use take shape through you and of wondering how it could have come through you.
Of seeing your work grow of itself like a live thing and prove even fairer than you dreamt, suggesting new departures to you with filial loyalty and reacting upon you and making you better in turn.
Oh, the joy of good work (the only good works)—the joy of the Father-Creator!
Perhaps you know, too, what it is to fail.
Was yours the Divine failure or the devilish failure?
Did you produce a shame-faced monstrous thing, a sham hypocritical thing, having a name for what it was not, and sure sooner or later to be found out?
Did you hate your work as you toiled at it? Did you long to disown it?
It is all in vain. It will come back to you, flesh of your flesh and bone of your bone.
You were really adulterating yourself, jerry-building and shoddy-weaving yourself, skimping and cheapening your own poor soul.
Alas! creation is not always joy.
Was yours the Divine failure or the devilish failure?
Did you produce a shame-faced monstrous thing, a sham hypocritical thing, having a name for what it was not, and sure sooner or later to be found out?
Did you hate your work as you toiled at it? Did you long to disown it?
It is all in vain. It will come back to you, flesh of your flesh and bone of your bone.
You were really adulterating yourself, jerry-building and shoddy-weaving yourself, skimping and cheapening your own poor soul.
Alas! creation is not always joy.
Or did you do your best, and only fall short of your highest aspiration?
Were you discouraged to see vast possibilities unrealized?
Ah! this is the noblest of all.
There is a margin left for you to fill up, an infinite, inexhaustible margin.
You have room to grow in forever.
You see that what you have made is very good and that it might be very much better.
If your work overtakes your dreams, the work may pass muster, but there must be something wrong with the dreams.
Always coming closer to the ideal, never quite reaching it—
Oh, the joy of the craftsman, the joy of the Father-Creator!
Were you discouraged to see vast possibilities unrealized?
Ah! this is the noblest of all.
There is a margin left for you to fill up, an infinite, inexhaustible margin.
You have room to grow in forever.
You see that what you have made is very good and that it might be very much better.
If your work overtakes your dreams, the work may pass muster, but there must be something wrong with the dreams.
Always coming closer to the ideal, never quite reaching it—
Oh, the joy of the craftsman, the joy of the Father-Creator!