From the moment of conception, we are unique. A majestic picture just waiting to be painted on the canvas of life. As we close our eyes, the vivid, harsh, beautiful colors dip and prance over the page. They twist, turn, pull each other into shapes and forms. Our pictures are joyous, full of sorrow and incredible all at the same time. The detail is not that of human accomplishment, but of a seemingly higher power.

As we spread our lives onto this masterpiece of life, we discover what and whom we truly are. The layers of worry, pain, and misconception are shed onto the page as well as those beneath. Our imaginations play and test the boundaries of creation. Sharp lines, fine points, and shapes not yet understood are cast upon the precipice. The violet images challenge our minds to look past the visible beauty and into the underlying discovery.

Our hearts paint their piece. Gentle swoops, careful flowing loops wrap themselves with warmth. As we become aware of them, they beg us to feel something deep inside. The rich crimson color assures us that we are not alone, that there is more out there. The golden yellow memories of childhood, of remembrance are sprinkled every so lovely across the page mixing so flawlessly with the autumn colors of belonging and comfort.

The deep gashes of pain cut into the others. Jagged, rough black, cold and alone. Navy worry pours out of the crevices, threatening to mask the rest. Just as all seems lost, hope. Amazing blue, the color of heaven sparks. Soon all is well again, even better than before. The painting is more dynamic, more awful, dreamy, and grasping than ever imagined by the painter.
A painting of life.

The tantalizing, tempting puddles of orange mark the moments of happiness and awakening. The moments of realization, of discovery. Silvering gray rips through as to symbolize the times of fear and anger. Ugly, yet without it, incomplete. Something in the mad storm of haze conjures a crystal clear meaning. Like icicles forming, the frost forms a purpose within the chaos.

Nature’s browns and earths seep into the unmarked territory, tying everything together. An inner bond of elegance among the saturation. Summer green, forest, and lime fall into place, perfectly, giving the picture a sense of vast expanse, like the planet from which we rose. Feather dusted pink floats onto the canvas, smiling at your eyes. Lively rose accompanies, laughing at the work which surrounds it, carefree.

Each color is important, yet insignificant by itself. Together, they create a body of life, of hope, joy, sorrow, disappointment, memory, love, anger, pain, warmth, comfort, belonging, awakening, creation, imagination, appreciation, introspection, belief, happiness, discovery. Our pictures are unique, not like any other in the world. They tell our story, our thoughts, our feelings.

We must embrace the beauty, for without this embrace the beauty will fade with time. The colors will blend, bleed, and disappear. They will turn to white. Pure, simple. In the end, all pictures will be white, all pictures the same. No way to tell where they have been, what they have seen, what they have stood for. The blank canvases stand still, awaiting a new life to grab a hold of them. They wait for a new life to start painting, casting their souls onto the whiteness.

We should be proud of our work, love it more than we ever thought possible. Believe in the power of the colors and know that this belief will lead to discovery. The discovery of things much greater than ourselves. The discovery of all that is life, and death.