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Poesis by Douglas Burton-Christie

“Stone by stone it rises, this little house by the sea. Soft, damp sand for mortar, moss for the garden, driftwood for the roof. A tiny stone wall encircles the yard, a path winds toward the front door. I am on my belly working to bring this little dwelling into being. My wife and young daughter work beside me. A breeze from the ocean cools us. We have begun building this miniature house on a whim, but now we are going at it in earnest. We want to make it strong and beautiful. Pausing from time to time to consider our creation, we talk and laugh and exchange stories. We imagine the lives of the inhabitants of this place, how they live, what they care about. A whole cosmos gradually comes into being.

This desire to make things, beautiful things�where does it come from? I do not know. I only know that there is a pleasure, deep and pure, that comes from making something beautiful, from fitting stones into a pattern, laying a floor, creating a garden, making a life. Even if the making is all there is, even if the thing made is ephemeral and not destined to last, there is pleasure and joy in the making. Sometimes, though, our creations do endure. We are able to behold the work and feel it work its magic on us, kindling the imagination, taking us out of ourselves if only for a moment, into another world.”

From: Spiritus: A Journal of Christian Spirituality 2.2 (2002) vii-ix