I woke up thinking about connection points this morning.
We connect through so many things. A laugh, a nod of recognition a memory echoed in someone else's story. Sometimes it begins with small talk about the weather; other times it’s a sudden plunge into something deeper, a late-night conversation that lays bare the soul.
It’s unpredictable and often unremarkable in the moment but something passes between us. A thread is tied. However briefly, we find common ground.
Lately, I’ve been sitting with that idea: the common. Not just the shared interest or moment that allows connection but the creative space it opens up. When we meet someone in the middle something new is born. A friendship. An idea. A change. A memory.
The common can be big or small - shared heritage, a love for dogs, grief, a favourite song. It doesn’t really matter what it is. What matters is that, for a moment, two people find themselves standing on the same patch of earth and either silently or aloud, they connect.
Not always deep, not always lasting but real.
As children, we’re told (quite rightly) not to talk to strangers. And yet, as adults, our richest creative lives are often built on talking to strangers. On listening. On noticing. On learning to seek out the common, even when it’s easier not to.
We are just searching for the common ground where something new can grow.
The work we make isn’t just ours.
It’s stitched and crafted from every story, every encounter, every “me too” and every “I see you“ moment.
One thread, one stitch, one snip of the scissors. Then another. We’re all threads in one vast quilt, in the end.
This week I am reminded of how connections have shaped my own creative life.
I left a mentorship group. The time was right yet I felt a sadness as I looked at the faces of the people who had helped me grow. I learned a former student is terminally ill. We connected for only one day but still the news hurt. And I worked on a collaborative design project with a person who’d left a comment on a Youtube podcast over 5 years ago.
These moments, the endings, the grief, the unexpected collaborations remind me that creativity isn’t just about making. It’s about remembering that every person we encounter, even briefly, leaves their mark on what we become, and on what we make.
So I’ll keep stitching, snipping, designing and talking because the work we do, the stories we share and the people we meet are woven into the fabric of our creative lives.
I’d love to hear your own connection points. Those moments when someone’s story, presence, or words became part of yours.
Thanks for reading,
Tracey
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