Small offerings

creativity in jobs that 'don't need it'

Hiking poles angled away from my body, ankle taped, I was looking down as we moved quickly through the forest, using someone’s art as our path.

Eagles and leaves had been carved into the logs and boards that lifted us above the mud and carried us through the trickier sections of the trail.

The trail guardian’s assignment was practical: care for the trail. Make it possible for hikers like us to pass through. Lay down boards to elevate us out of the mud. Those eagles were their personal flourish.

I make my living doing creative work, though I often struggle to explain exactly what that means. Design, photography, writing, video—whatever a project requires. I am lucky to use these skills for work. But using them is not always the same as following the impulse that made me love them. After spending a day making something for someone else, there is not always much left for the novel languishing on my google drive. Or the camera stored in a bag, ready to be taken on the next walk. Or the pleasure of creating without a purpose.

The carver¹ was clever. These boards needed grip. Slick planks and slippery hiking boots are a dangerous combination. All they had to do was make a crosshatch. I had seen it used in plenty of other areas along the trail. But in this section, this person chose to turn that necessary grip into eagles and leaves. I admire that.

We have always done this. Carving patterns into tools and decorating ordinary objects for as long as we have been making them. A baker scores a pattern into bread. A produce clerk turns apples into a display. A teacher draws a beautiful diagram. Work that can be completed without flourishes—but function alone has rarely been enough for us.

Not everyone gets to make a living through creativity. Even those of us who do may give away that energy, leaving little at the end for our own personal work. But the impulse remains.

A creative life is not defined by a job title or even by what we produce. It is found in these small offerings.

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This short piece was inspired by day six of hiking the West Coast Trail.

It was intensely hot, and we stopped often to collect extra water. For a while, we tried to avoid the beach, where the full sun made dehydration feel inevitable.

the lack of rain was drying out many stream, so stopping to top up when possible became important

That detour brought us past a camp and the trail guardians’ cabin, decorated with found objects and carvings, its door open. Just beyond it, we paused at a fork. Both paths appeared to lead into the forest, but we suspected the one on the left would eventually take us to the beach.

As we stood there, the guardians came out to chat. I thanked them for the art and the beautifully maintained trails. The person standing closest to us turned to their companion and explained that he was, in fact, the artist.

I was curious. I wanted to ask: Why the eagle? How else do you bring your creativity to life? Do you carve outside of your work here?

But I was also exhausted, overheating and nursing a swollen ankle. I kept the questions to myself, and we followed the right-hand path they suggested into the woods.

It was not long before I was struggling. The trail narrowed and became increasingly difficult to navigate on a sprained ankle. Soon, I was declaring that midday sun and all, we were finding a way back to the beach.

We ended the day watching a bear meander along the shore in search of dinner. We were only one day away from completing the trail, a bucket-list experience for us. It felt perfect to lean back against a beach log, feet buried in the sand, while the sun set and nature carried on in front of us.

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A note for paid subscribers

1. I did some searching and found an article, the carver is Kevin Peters, from the Huu-ay-aht Nation. Read the full article HERE, it includes a photo of the trail my dehydrated brain didn’t take. You can also see some of his posts about caring for, and yes carving the trail, on his public FB.

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Hey, you made it to the end! I have a little secret for you.

Writing on the internet can be very strange and lonely.

I just want to say thank you for your encouragement. Writing weekly has been a deeply personal practice for me. And I often think no one cares, no one reads this…until someone comments. Or, like last week, someone leaned in for a hug and said, “Keep writing.”

Supporting creative people in your life can be that simple: a word of encouragement. Thank you.