What will you leave behind when you’re gone?

Most of us think about photos, memories, stories passed down. But there’s something more powerful waiting in your hands right now: your own art.

President Ikeda wrote: “The life of each of us is like a canvas. What kind of picture do we paint there? We don’t have to be a celebrity or genius. What’s important is to fill our canvas in our own style and to our own satisfaction, depicting the brilliant drama of a life devoted to our own individual mission, with all our heart and being, up to the last moment.”

Your canvas. Your style. Your heart.

When you pick up a pencil and doodle what’s swirling in your mind, you’re not just making marks on paper—you’re externalizing what lives inside you. That grief. That joy. That confusion. That hope. And when someone finds that doodle years from now, they don’t just see lines. They feel your humanity. They connect to their own.

This is how art heals twice: once when you create it, and again when someone else experiences it.

You don’t need art school. You don’t need talent. You need a willingness to start.

Grab a journal and write without thinking. Play an instrument badly. Go see a movie that makes you cry. Paint something messy. Visit a gallery. Create anything.

Better yet? Invite someone to create with you. Your neighbor. Your grandchild. A friend who’s lonely. Because when you create together, you’re not just making art—you’re building connection. And connection is medicine.

We’re all aging. Every single day. The question isn’t if we’ll fill our canvas, but how. Will yours be blank? Or will it be covered in color, texture, story, and truth—a legacy that keeps healing long after your last brushstroke?

Your art matters. Not because it’s perfect.