You are a canvas stretched across the frame of the Great Spirit. Your image fashioned by the paint brush of free will. Your color and texture composed of a palette of situations, relationships and choices…and sometimes fate…all unique to you, and all subject to interpretation. It doesn’t matter if others don’t understand or appreciate your composition. You are of the Great Spirit. No matter what, you are loved.
But your worst fear is being a blank, white canvas…drab and insignificant, even when passionate crimson screams through the pores of your skin and bleeds right through your heart. Up from the depths of your soul is a bright Light that wants to shine into the jonquil sun. It is your birthright to shine, says the Great Spirit! But Light is the delicate flame of a heavenly scented candle. It blows in the winds of a world snared in its own concern and littleness. You must guard it from being snuffed out by oatmeal indifference and graying numbness.
Sometimes you’ll spin in circles or meet crossroads leading nowhere. Don’t drown in indigo tears. You’re learning. A splash of green reveals your innocence and need to grow, to ascend into opaque lavender. This need never dies, but something in you will die if it’s not fulfilled. Pick up your brush. Stretch beyond your reach. Step into a puddle of pink. Scream out to a world lulled and dulled to sleep. Make your brushstrokes memorable! “Fitting in” is a universal temptation but it pares the majestic eagle down to a gimping starling.
The child within you is an incandescent bright gold star. She knows the right shapes and colors if she’s left alone. Do not splatter random, haphazard streaks across your canvas in frustration. Remember that you are deserving of an artist of the highest order. You are the canvas.