Mama said, “Honey, mustn’t be blue

It’s not so much do what you like

As it is that you like what you do”

Mama said, “Darling, don’t make such a drama.

A little less thinking, a little more feeling”

I’m just quoting Mama!

The child is so sweet

And the girls are so rapturous

Isn’t it lovely how artists can capture us?

Melissa Ericco singing “Children and Art” from Stephen Sondheim’s Sunday in the Park with George

I grew up on stage. Singing in choirs. Performing in musicals. Playing instruments. Seeing shows. Studying, music, dance, theatre. My sweet, rapturous self connected with the arts in ways that made my world big enough to feel all the feelings. Somehow it all made sense when I was connecting with my body and soul and creating something, anything. That is the story of my entire life, really.

The question of doing what I like was always framed in liking what I do. It was never an internal tug of war when I deeply trusted that truth. The truth of those waters runs deep. Liking what I did meant I was connecting what I was good at with what I spent my hours doing. Amazing how that fits together – we get better at what we learn and practice. That does not mean we never try new things we may not be good at, rather, it means we try it all and listen to our joy. We follow our joy as if that is the only path for ourselves, all those we love, and our world. We follow our joy, our deep joy that touches the place in our heart where we know we matter and serve and connect.

I think that is true when thinking about “work,” too. Listening to our feelings can get lost in thinking. Building, creating, loving: it is all the same. When you look at it like that — service, community, grace — happen as sure as thoughts, and steps. Parker Palmer talks about the vital connection of work and love, and that is what I know for sure. The arts have always connected my work and love. That is the power of children and art.