“Here’s the difference between you and me,” he said propping his feet on the footstool. “You’re there in front of your ‘easel’ dying because you’ve messed up your canvas. “ He paused, “I messed up my canvas too, but I’m just putting a layer of white paint over the top and painting something new… I’m the guy shouting, ‘Hey, excuse me, I’ll need some white paint over here! MORE WHITE PAINT PLEASE!”
More white paint please. It was that simple.
I actually laughed through the tears that were sliding down my cheeks. That night we were not painting. It was a quiet night in just sharing a couch and a conversation. It was one of many nights when acute anxiety threatened to capsize me. As I looked at my life, which was not the life I had imagined nor heading in the direction I meant it to, my fear and pain rose. On that night, I imagined that in life we’d been given one canvas, a canvas which I had messed up. I imagined that mistakes were fatal, that change didn’t really happen, or that all of my creative power and strength were lost and gone forever rendering me stuck. (It’s interesting the tricks a perfectly good mind will play.)
Thank goodness for the friend who, with wisdom bathed in kind humor, reminded me that mistakes need not be fatal, and that I had power to yell, “Excuse me – I NEED SOME WHITE PAINT OVER HERE – STAT!”
He smiled at himself. “My paint tubes will be squeezed and messy, my canvas may be two feet thick, but me – well, I’m just going to keep painting.”
Be that friend.
Or get some white paint.
But, please give yourself another chance, accept a new beginning, and feel free to paint with love and abandon.
So simple yet so profound. You are a brilliant writer!
Yes… we can remember that it is so simple…. Let’s all choose to keep things simple…