What could be more important?

Readers, I do have regular Art versus Life dilemmas. I enjoyed my weekly poetry class, and then it was cancelled due to lack of numbers. I find it very hard to write without a deadline or a metaphorical stick. My father (a writer) used to suggest that I write a novel. Blimey, my massage lady, Wee Paula, tells me to, 'get that book written.' She claims to have clairvoyant powers, but, hey...

 

What's stopping me? Answer: Being as happy as a pig in mud (to use an un-writer-ly cliché). Being there for the kids feels like the truest calling I ever had. I ask myself, what could be more important? Sure, art is crucially important. It helps better us and elevate us and I love the high of a good song/film/poem/story/novel. I love feeling I have created something that moves others - a poem or a story.

 

But, let's face it, my main creativity is helping the children grow safely and happily. This should not been seen as lesser. I am enjoying a new volunteer role as a classroom assistant in a local primary school. This too, feels right and it feels important in a way that is often underrated. But it feels important to me, and this is where the sustenance lies. I'd love to get a job like this, one day.

 

Perhaps I will come back to writing sooner or later. Umm, later or sooner, I want to say, to give me hope it will be sooner.

 

Still, I love being the big cushion for the weans and the one who will teach them to tie their shoe laces. Such industry allows me to be the one who watches The Simpsons with them, when the  comfortable tiredness of evening comes calling. Peace on earth, man.