Practicing any art form can lead to self-discovery.

Practicing any art form—painting, singing, drawing, sculpting, playing an instrument, acting, or even writing a column, can lead to self-discovery. For as long as I can remember, I’ve relied on my imagination to entertain myself. When I was a child, my uncle donated a caboose—or playhouse, if you prefer—filled with old clothes. My cousins and I would act out skits for our parents and neighbors. I’d grab a skipping rope, pretend it was a microphone, and belt out songs like It’s Not Unusual by Tom Jones or an Elvis classic, thinking it might “attract the babes.” I imitated Jerry Lewis or jumped on my bed, pretending to be Edward Carpentier wrestling Tarzan “The Boot” Tyler.

Pencil and paper were cheaper than electric guitars, so I spent hours drawing pictures from an Illustrated Children’s Encyclopedia. In high school, I took art classes and doodled in math class (which probably explains why I never got a call from MIT). Later, I bought oil paints from a friend’s wife and taught myself to paint by watching The Magic of Oil Painting on PBS. In my mid-twenties, I played a role in a play (learning lines is tough!) and dabbled in improv in my late forties. Now, I co-host a Cogeco talk show called Man to Man with Stephen Douris, where we interview local men about their trials and triumphs. I also write this column and once created a children’s book—complete with illustrations—that I never published.

None of these endeavors have made me much money, aside from a comedy challenge at Freddie’s and a gift certificate from improv. But the real reward has been the joy they’ve brought me and others. Hearing things like “You drew that? Wow!” or “That role-play was so intense—great job!” or receiving applause after a play—those moments are priceless. I’ve often joked that I’m good at everything that doesn’t pay, but the truth is, these experiences do pay in their own way. They inspire others to try something new. For example, I once taught art to elderly residents at a manor as a community health agent. These ladies, most in their eighties, were so proud of their work, and we even held an art exhibit for them.

Many people pick up an art form later in life and excel at it. There’s something deeply satisfying about creating. Ask any guy with a tool shop—it’s not about the money; it’s about the peace it brings. Whether you’re sculpting, drawing, knitting, or building something out of wood, the process is its own reward. And unlike fame, which invites criticism, creating for yourself shields you from the harshness of the world. Social media can be brutal to artists, but when you create for the love of it, you’re safe from that.

This year, I wish you all peace. Try a new art form, no matter your age. Find the curious child within you, and allow yourself the joy of creating. After all, Clint Eastwood is still going strong at 94, proving that art contributes to a long and fulfilling life. Give it a shot—you just might find happiness in the process.