Many years ago when my husband was still getting used to me, he commented to our friends that I was ‘often extravagant but seldom wasteful’. Our friends laughed and one of them said ‘that’s ridiculous how do you separate the two?’

This morning as I poured the last tablespoon of baking soda into a glass jar for future use, that comment came back to me, as it has many times since. It’s fascinating how other people’s observations of us can help us see ourselves more clearly at times, whether or not we agree. They can also be terribly damaging so it’s wise to take a long view and evaluate carefully before believing everything others think they see in us. My husband made a true observation of me, our friend didn’t see things that way.

I try not to be wasteful. We eat recycled leftovers lovingly and pleasingly presented, I use offcuts of veggies to make delicious and nutritious soup stock, I use containers instead of plastic wrap when I can. Where we can, we recycle and compost and use things until they break or are no longer healthful. I donate what we no longer use, and clean and care for the belongings we have.

But I love the beautiful.

I always have. And therein lay my extravagance. I remember as a child loving to colour and find pretty stones, press autumn leaves, learn crafts. It was not only about self expression, it was about adding beauty to the world.

I decided some years ago as well as supporting my immediate family’s needs, my purpose in life is to observe and share as well as create beauty. It can only be as I see it, of course, because we all have different views about beauty. I think it’s possible there is someone in the world who doesn’t even care about beauty, only practicality. If I was starving or in the middle of a war I might feel the same pull to the practical, survival side of things. But so far I have never strayed from the path of searching for beauty.

I make an effort in the garden, not because I like gardening–I barely like it at all. But I love looking at the colours, shapes and textures in varying light. I clean not because I love cleaning, but I love looking at an orderly house. I even painted clouds on the ceiling of our daughter’s room when she was a young teen. Clouds! On the ceiling! I think she was disappointed they didn’t look as real as she’d imagined, but I’m sure now she realises the love that went into that project.

I have been overwhelmed of late. Family matters, health and the busy world in general have interfered with my ability to make beauty. But even now, I have still been creative with our meals, with the tidying up of our surroundings, with my private observations of nature or everyday life. I seem to always find a creative outlet no matter the situation, even if just in my mind.

One of my all time favourite quotes of the last 50 years is this:

(*please read by replacing all the male pronouns with female ones:)

The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him… a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create — so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating. –Pearl S Buck

This was long before I realised I am a Highly Sensitive Person, but even then it made sense to me.

Now it makes even more sense!

Thanks for reading.