I used to define productivity differently. My definition had everything to do with the sum of objects I was able to create in the studio and my self worth was tied directly to that sum. When life circumstances kept me from my studio I suffered from a sort of neurotic frustration that was unpleasant to my own body and soul and mind and I’m sure absolutely repugnant to friends and family. This is not to say I created from a place of anguish. On the contrary, working was my bliss, but the sort of bliss that stems from addiction and obsession. Can art be addiction? Can creative work become obsession? I think so. I think anything can turn into an addiction, a substance we use to fill a void, and all human souls are equipped with holes that need filling.

Over the 14 years I’ve spent as a fulltime silversmith, something has changed and evolved and grown and lived and died and been reclaimed and redeemed and reborn in me so that I cannot say I continue to define productivity as the sum of jewelry I am able to create in a day, a week, a month or a year. I no longer choose my studio and my work over all other things. Instead, my productivity is determined by the sum and quality of my living — by the totality of my life. I strive to practice a fully integrated life wherein my work is my play is my food is my faith and one of those things cannot be separated from the others. In practicing this lifestyle, I have found that gardening for 8 hours is productive. Spending a couple months to hunt for my food alongside my husband and bird dogs is productive. Spending five uninterrupted days in my studio is productive. Taking a morning to read and meditate and practice stillness and worship and thanksgiving is productive. Taking care of my relationships is productive. Riding my horses is productive. When I live my life in fullness with joy and conviction the jewelry I create is filled with richness and meaning and at the end of the day, at the end of all the days, I find all of this is enough.

I wonder if I have reached a point wherein I am big enough? I used to believe that if I wasn’t constantly growing the small business side of my work, if I wasn’t growing exponentially in that regard, finding ways to do things faster and cleaner with less effort, hiring agents, seeking out assistants and hiring packing and shipping minions…that I wasn’t working hard enough or that I had plateaued…and we are told so often by society that to plateau in small business is death — if we aren’t growing, we’re dying.

What if I’ve reached a point wherein my creative work sustains me and my little family comfortably and it’s simply enough? Not only is it enough, but what I am able to create in my studio is woven within the tapestry of the sum of my living. There with my food, my family, my farm, my faith, my play, my work, is a glimmer of silver and stone and the music of hammers singing and files rasping and all of it, all of it, is this beautiful life of mine. If I become bigger than this, I fear I will sacrifice all of my living for my work, and my work will lose the truth of my touch, the fingerprint of my life will fade upon the surfaces of these things I create. I’m scared to get bigger. I’m scared to sacrifice the other aspects of my life for an endless quest that has no finish line. I’m not afraid to work hard, but I often wonder if this is big enough. My life is nothing without the work and my work is nothing without my life. Maybe this is called balance or something else entirely? Grace? All I know is I feel free to linger by these flames, with a good horse, in the cold wind, in the sea of sage.