I was wondering what painting might represent my life right now. If I were talented with a brush, what colors might I layer on canvas? Would I go for realistic or abstract forms? Would I want people to look at the painting of me and catch their breath with awe, furrow their brows while pondering the meaning? What is my life?
The pictures that came to my mind were perfectly strong, joyful, and uplifting. Just thinking about it makes me smile. I wish I did have some ability to sketch, draw, something...so that I could show you all what I see my life as. Since I'm not, I'll try to paint a masterpiece in words.
I was flying. I was me, covered in colorful, warm robes. They felt comfortable. I was looking forward, not up to the incredible sky above me or down to the patchwork of earth below. I was looking ahead, to my future. My hair was flowing wildly in the wind. I was smiling, not a practiced, picture perfect smile, but one that someone might catch on a teenagers face while she was daydreaming of her young love.
The sky around my was bright, but not blinding. The sun was above, and it's warmth all around, but the direct glare was hidden by one of many clouds scattered higher than my path. There were shadows behind me, in my past, but even they felt calm. Nothing spooky lingered anywhere in the frame.
Under me was a quilt of scenery. There were lush meadows of simple flowers, and water flowing in rivers, over falls, and resting in ponds. Snow capped mountains grew up next to small cities of silver buildings. Neighborhoods of homes with fenced green yards settled near great forests with tall trees. All of this was tiny, small, difficult to focus on. It seemed unimportant, but was so detailed it obviously was.
Noticeable from the ground were thin ribbons, that looked like light breaking through the clouds, but when followed, instead came from me. These ribbons were less like ties that held me down and more like tethers that lifted me like a kite, but grounded me firmly to my life.
Ahead of me, almost beyond my view, the colors lightened. They became so pale they faded to blank canvas, to a future not yet painted.