Purpose
I dreamed of becoming a great artist, but it was not to be. Yes, I am an artist and will always be, but a quiet artist who just had to make art, with all my heart.
I think God was the first artist. The first creator. He sculpted the hills and mountains, the valleys and river beds. He hung clouds, galaxies and the universe above for our delight. When I create art, I feel like I’m speaking God’s native tongue and like he’s there beside me, ready to give a high five. In fact, it’s like he’s there beside me, watching my heart be poured onto the paper or canvas and he’s smiling and saying, in his own creative way, “well done”. His smile is like a hug. Creating is a language. It’s the words between the lines. It gives us glimpses of something deep in our hearts.
When someone smiles at me, I’m like a puppy who’s tail wags so fast its like an airplane propeller, whirring into a blur. Oh, to be seen.
I’ve slowed, nearly to a stop, in my ambitions, but not in my purpose. I give away smiles.
