She doesn’t know it, but Elizabeth Gilbert is stalking me. Yes, THAT Elizabeth Gilbert. As in Eat, Pray, Love. As in one of Oprah’s most favored children. But I’ll get to her (and the point) a little later.

For now, let’s talk hipsters. And crafts. 

After I dropped my mom at the airport this morning (following a very busy and fun month of mother-daughter time), I decided to check out the Crafty Bastards Art Fair, a much-anticipated annual event here in DC featuring all manner of interesting goodies. Wolf-fang jewelry, silkscreened t-shirts, vintage looking horror movie posters, coffee mugs with cute animals and expletives, and everything in-between. Seriously, they even had faux scout badges for things like “voodoo,” “douchebaggery” and “getting canned.” Something for everyone? Indeed!

As you might guess, none of what I described above came home with me. Instead, I bought a dishtowel with dachshunds on it, perhaps the most missionary of purchases in a veritable craft-fair creative orgy.

As I wandered from stall to stall, I found myself in a dissonant state of admiration and annoyance. There wasn’t anything that spoke to my design asthetic, but it ALL spoke to me from my creative core. I was almost glum with admiration from the ballsy creativity on display. I mean, who creates a mermaid zombie marionette and puts it out there for sale (yours for just $500)? Talk about bold!

As I was walking back to my car, I thought about all I had seen in the Crafty Bastards tent, and why the experience made me feel so out of sorts. After all, who gets all bothered by artisianal sausages, tote bags with pithy vegan sentiments and felted baby heads? Apparently, ME.

More on the hipsters later.

As I headed home, that telltale female voice came flooding out of my radio. Elizabeth (f’ing) Gilbert. I can’t seem to get away from her these days…her thoughts on creativity and the human need to make things has been doggedly pursuing me for weeks. Don’t get me wrong: I LOVE her. I begrudgingly read Eat, Pray, Love a number of years ago and was so inspired by her journey. And she’s been silently tracking me ever since. I stumbled on a podcast of hers a couple of weeks ago (also on the subject of creativity), and her words resonated so strongly. The universe must have sent her this afternoon to pull me out of my funk of inadequacy and lovingly put me in my place. Her message?

WE ARE CREATORS. GO MAKE STUFF!

That’s right. The Crafty Bastards display of creative force and audacity I had just witnessed had momentarily touched my insecure soft center. Simply put, the power of so much creativity and make-y-ness made me feel small. But dear Liz talked me off the metaphysical ledge. Her absolute certainty that we are fundamentally creative little beings immediately made me look at the world differently. Even while standing in line at CVS, I couldn’t help but notice things people created and put out in the world. Never mind it was a jar of Metamucil. Somebody made that!

So here’s the amazing, wonderful and somewhat intimidating thing: We ALL have something inside of us that needs to be created, nurtured and shared with the world. You know you do. Whether your medium is meatballs, macrame or music, you are a MAKER. What stops us from a full expression or nurturing of our creative impulses? Elizabeth Gilbert says it’s FEAR. And ding-ding, she’s spot on.

Which brings me to hipsters.

I have been living hipster-adjacent for almost all of my adult life. I tend to gravitate toward places where artists and makers congregate, but I always seem to hang out on the edges. As a group, hipsters are all about creativity and challenging the status quo. This can be annoying for those of us who are a tiny bit scared of our creative energy. Boldness in the face of fear smacks of indulgence and ego. Good God, are you drawing attention to yourself? Stop making yourself so…conspicuous. Sheesh.

But here’s where I’ll go public and say THANK YOU to all the hipster makers out there. You’ve inspired/annoyed me to the point where I want to get in the creative mosh pit and start experimenting more. I’ll skip the ironic tee-shirt, messenger bag resplendent with duct tape and Bjork lyrics and small-batch tequila and do it my way. With words, cottage-comfy designs and rocky road fudge.

Now, who’s hungry? 😉