Art is deeply healing, for both the creator and the viewer. Simply looking at artwork can reduce stress and anxiety. Taking a pause from daily tasks to enjoy nature-inspired imagery, in particular, calms the nervous system. Science even shows that engaging with art you love releases dopamine, the same “feel-good” chemical that lights up when we fall in love.

Art can also create safe, non-verbal spaces to process difficult memories or emotions, sometimes leading to true catharsis. I’ve seen this firsthand with my own work: more than once…

Last week at our Flourish gathering, we were sharing some of the things that made us anxious, the very reasons many of us had come in the first place. The atmosphere grew heavy, the stress almost tangible. Then came a simple directive: look around the room and find something that gives you delight.

For me, the choice was easy. While helping set up earlier in the day, I had noticed a couple of small mammal skulls in the space (which also hosts children’s programs). I made a beeline for them and picked the one that spoke to me most.

I want to let you in on a little secret: I don’t know what I’m doing.

Well, sometimes I have a general idea of where I’d like to go, but I rarely know exactly how to get there.

A lot of people feel they need clarity before they can begin something new—or at least someone to guide them through the process. And thank goodness for that (my work as a teacher depends on it!). But here’s the truth: we don’t actually need all the answers before we start.

Lately, I’ve been talking a lot about how important it is to gather with others—especially when so many of us are not feeling okay in our current environment. Every day, I see or hear something that makes me uneasy, whether it’s the news, politics, or the growing sense of division in our world. The list feels endless, and overwhelming at times.

So what can I do as an individual?

My name is Nana, at least to one very small person. My granddaughter is almost eighteen months old, and she loves to color. If you ask her if she wants to color, the answer is always an enthusiastic nod and wiggle, arms in the air, waiting for me to carry her to the drawer where the crayons live.