Brushstrokes

I read something in a book the other day, it talked about our life being a masterpiece and paying attention to all the tiny brushstrokes. I’ve thought about that several times since then.

Have you ever studied a painting? I’m not talking about a picture or portrait, but an actual painting, where you can see on the canvas all the separate, individual brushstrokes?

I have such a painting hanging in our spare bedroom. It’s one my parents had in their house and it looks like a cafe’ on a lane in Italy. When we went through my mother’s things, I discovered I didn’t want to let the painting go outside of the family. Not only does it remind me of my mom, there’s just something about it that speaks to me, and my heart responds in a way I can’t really comprehend or even explain.

After the tiny brushstroke sentence kept nagging at me, I stood and really looked at the painting. I studied it in a way I hadn’t before. I examined how the artist laid down certain colors next to others to give varying depths and shades, how some lines had a heavier streak of paint than others. While many of the strokes were intentional, it appeared to me there were some that looked like the brush just randomly plopped down a bit of color.

I think the author of the book I referred to was on to something. Are we so focused on the painting of our life as a whole, our need to see the “finished product” that we ignore the small, daily choices we make, those brushstrokes of thoughts and emotions, the decisions and habits we practice that make up our lives?

Or is our perception that we are bogged down by the daily grind, trying to obtain a life that appears a certain way, to satisfy our own ideal or to please others, that we are missing out on the beauty and wonder of life that each of those tiny brushstrokes represent?

I hope not. I know my life is full of those rich, little moments that bring it color and beauty. I want to pay attention, to appreciate the opportunities to hang out with family, laughing and reminiscing, the bonds of friendships I have, of listening to a gentle, steady rain, and then seeing the first rays of sunshine after the rain is over, of seeing someone smile, the kind that expands and lights up their eyes.

So the next time you need some hope, I encourage you to see your own life like a painting, and recognize all the tiny brushstrokes that are part of it. Let yourself see the textures and hues and varying shades that make it the beautiful masterpiece that it is.