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.
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