It All Began With a Dozen Pairs of Scissors.

I could begin by listing my love of tangible mediums: the way my favorite satin fabric falls in billowy ribbons as I cut it into shape; the soft, satisfying feeling of cutting through heavy paper with sharp scissors; the freshly trimmed ends of a haircut that makes my hair feel soft and healthy and empowers me to truly feel like myself.

Before I explain why that last one falls into "craft" territory, let me begin where it began:

My earliest memories.

I was 7, and my sister had just been born.

My parents - creatives as they were, themselves - owned what they called their "drapery workroom." They produced custom window treatments for clients all around the city. My parents created beautiful designs from the most amazing fabrics, and their workroom was filled with huge rolls of luxuriously thick brocade that glimmered like gold in the light, exotic materials like tatami and cork, and ginormous sample books full of everything in between. There was a lot of green. There was always a lot of green. One of the fabrics that stood out and stuck with me (for reasons that I don't think even matter) was a jungle-green, cotton-twill upholstery fabric. Generic. Beautiful nonetheless.

Another thing that stuck with me (both emotionally and literally) was the collection of a dozen (At least a dozen. I'm being modest.) orange-handled Fiskars scissors.

The heavy-duty kind. The kind used for cutting through cork and gold brocade.

At the time, my young parents had two young children, and so most of our time was spent in the workroom, my sister safely in a crib away from the scissors, and I, myself, with a pair of said scissors, curled up on a throne of fabric and foam, cutting away at anything I was given, under the supervision of my parents.

(At this point I must add a disclaimer: while kid-sized safety scissors are a great thing, I appreciate my mother for entrusting me with the responsibility of using "grown-up" scissors.)

When I say that I cut away at anything I was given, I mean that I used those big orange scissors to literally create my happiness in any way I could.

We all did.

My entrepreneurial parents.

My sister, from the time she, herself, could hold scissors.

And yours truly - a jack of all trades, certainly, but happily so.

Because my parents bought a surplus of scissors for their business, there was always a surplus of scissors throughout both the workshop and the house. We had the luxury of being able to pick up a pair and cut things whenever we wanted, without worrying about losing or dulling the "good pair." They were all the good pair. (The one exception to this rule was my father's moustache scissors, which he never allowed us to use, except once to cut doll hair, and it was the highest honor.)

It might sound superficial to say that we could use scissors whenever we wanted. I mean, most people use scissors whenever they want. But these scissors were everywhere in our lives.

Have some paper? *snip* Paper lanterns!

Have some fabric? *snickt* Clothing!

Flowers outside? *shnipt* Bouquet!

Friendship bracelets made out of thread cut to length.

Castles made of cardboard boxes.

Happiness. Made.

Having constant access to scissors undoubtedly fueled my creativity, but it also helped me to learn problem-solving.

Want to learn knot-tying, but can't untangle the knots? Cut the rope, try again.

Have to have a haircut because you got it knotted while swimming all summer? [Someone I know. Totally not me, though. *ahem*] Might as well try your hand at haircutting.

Have a shirt you really love, but imagine it would look better sleeveless? Presto-change-o! Sleeveless shirt.

So the more I used this simple tool, the more I created the world around me.

I tried my hand at everything.

Haircutting? Found out I loved it. I've been cutting my own hair for years now, and I love the control I have over creating my own appearance. (While I do have a pair of barber's shears, It's pretty common for me to just use my Fiskars if they're within reach. They just cut cleanly. No split ends!) Hair cuts led to hair dyes, and creating my hair has been one of my favorite ways to create my happiness.

Houseplants? I'm new to it, but I'm trying to take care of my plant babies. When a leaf or stem dries up, I carefully snip the stem close to the soil and give it a sip of water. When they lose their flowers, I use said scissors to lovingly prune them to make way for new flowers.

Paper? Any. All. Everywhere. Handmade stickers. Stencils. Scrapbooking. Snail mail. Snipping return addresses off of envelopes so I can file them into my scrapbook without clutter.

Reaching for scissors comes as naturally to me as reaching for a pen, or for my keyboard. I am a maximalist in creativity, but a minimalist in my environment, and so, having such a versatile and multipurpose tool aids me more times a day than I've probably ever even acknowledged before.

Still not convinced? I keep a pair on my desk *and* a pair in my overnight bag that I keep in my car. And both pairs are two of the very same pairs that I used as a kid, sitting on top of my throne of make-believe and foam.

My parents have most of the rest of the scissors. They now make furniture, although there's still a lot of fabric...

My sister has at least one pair.

We've created a world rich in experiences. As a child, I created what was in my imagination. As an adult, I'm creating my career as an artist. What's the phrase? Live your bliss?

Fiskars scissors had a huge hand in teaching me to be fearless in my creativity.

And when you're fearlessly creative, creating your happiness comes naturally.

~ If this article sparked memories of your own early creative years, please consider liking, and share with your friends. Or if you're rather the type of person who speaks with their wallet, I invite you to leave a tip below.

With love: Adrien X. Andrews