“We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do language. That may be the measure of our lives.”
Toni Morrison, 1993 Nobel Lecture
Toni Morrison didn’t write for me. But her writing profoundly affected me. She died on Monday at the age of 88.
I feel no hesitation widening her “we do language,” to mean “we make art.” To me, the art we make – real, imagined, deep, shallow, professional, amateur – the art we make is the measure of our lives. Toni Morrison’s life is measured through the many remarkable novels, essays. It towers. She poured so much life into that art.
But even the quietest artistic life can be a way to measure a life. The art of a loaf of bread baked for family. The art of a thank you card, lovingly sent. The art we make with raw young singers and the art we make when we sing a lullaby to an infant.
When I look back, it’s the art I’ve made – large and small – that will serve to measure what my life has meant.
We can’t begin to measure Toni Morrison’s life. But we can continue to take in her art.