Everything Except the Canvas

One of my roommates in Cali was a painter. A wonderful one at that. When she needed to refocus or just calm herself she pulled out her paints, paintbrushes, canvas and laid it all out – in the kitchen, in the backyard, in her room – it didn’t matter where. From time to time I’d walk by to watch her work. The way the colors all blended together, the strokes which filled the canvas, the layers which added depth – all amazed me. Near the end of my time there she brought out all of her supplies and asked the rest of us if we wanted to join her. After debating, I jumped on board. I love to be creative, and painting is something I haven’t really ever done – unless you count those pictures every child creates with the dollar watercolors or finger paints. As I watched an image that was only in my mind slowly be created on this canvas I was enthralled. When I finished the piece, the feeling of accomplishment was overwhelming. I turned it around and wrote #1 on the back – as it was a gift to a very dear woman who had treated me as her own daughter while we were in school together.

Since then I’ve wanted to paint more. Back when there was a relationship in my life and the other person in it pushed me to find my own hobbies, I figured painting could be one of them. I wanted to be like Allie in The Notebook. Have a guy who loves her so much that even if she isn’t in his life he builds a house exactly like the one she wants – including a room just for her to paint in. *smiles* It’s sweet.  Well, anyway. Once the relationship ended I threw myself into work and activities, absolutely denying myself the ability to express myself in any form aside from this very blog you read. The desire to do something I had found pleasure in while he was in my life was stripped away. Only recently have I longed to pull out a canvas and create a world – one which only I had knowledge of. So what did I do? Well, I went and found a small collection of paints (a 12 color starter set of sorts) and a small bundle of paint brushes – Merry Christmas to me! The only thing I’m missing is the canvas. The blank slate. The empty world. The openness to whatever.

Isn’t that just the way it goes in life? We have to be open – willing for whatever is next before it hits and starts on a new picture (season) of your life.

I think I’m ready for my canvas now…

2 thoughts on “Everything Except the Canvas

  1. i like this: “Isn’t that just the way it goes in life? We have to be open – willing for whatever is next before it hits and starts on a new picture (season) of your life.”

    appreciation of the present is usually the beginning of something beautiful.

    merry christmas.

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