I used to believe that the world was black and white. That, like Batman and the Joker we were all simply good or simply bad. Such easy days those were, when right and wrong seemed so obvious and understandable. Drawing on the walls, bad. Drawing a picture for mom, good. I'm afraid that age and time toughen the questions we're faced with, making me long for the days were all I had to fuss over was whether to place my crayon in the lines or out.
I remember the day when I looked down to discover i was no longer standing black or white, suddenly there I was in yellow, surrounded by pinks, reds, greens, with only bits of black and white scattered here and there. That was the day I realized there are sometimes more than two straightforward answers and that life is beautifully and tragically unpredictable.
At first I was overwhelmed by the color, by the options and decisions that lay before me, asking for a choice, I wondered how I would I ever define myself when there was so much too choose from, so much to be. I find that I am still defining, that I am a work in progress and probably always will be. How boring would life be if it were all black and white, one or the other, this way or that? What on Earth would I write about, how would we ever discover new inventions or ever truly learn about ourselves?
Today I know that black and white is dull. That life is messy so that we build character, so we are challenged and compelled to choose for ourselves who we are and what is important to us. Today I believe in the chaos of color, the disorder of life. I believe that I am an artist with my very own canvas, that I am the clay waiting to be molded but I am also the sculptor, that there is no need to try to paint in only blacks and whites when there is a variety of color begging to be used.
Today I am a deliberate chameleon, changing colors on my own terms. I believe I am free to create my own masterpiece and that it needs to be shared with others, that our colors change shades as we incorporate others into our masterpiece. That they contribute to our work and we contribute to theirs. I believe that we need each other to learn, to grow, to be inspired, to truly make something of this mess of color I call life.
I remember the day when I looked down to discover i was no longer standing black or white, suddenly there I was in yellow, surrounded by pinks, reds, greens, with only bits of black and white scattered here and there. That was the day I realized there are sometimes more than two straightforward answers and that life is beautifully and tragically unpredictable.
At first I was overwhelmed by the color, by the options and decisions that lay before me, asking for a choice, I wondered how I would I ever define myself when there was so much too choose from, so much to be. I find that I am still defining, that I am a work in progress and probably always will be. How boring would life be if it were all black and white, one or the other, this way or that? What on Earth would I write about, how would we ever discover new inventions or ever truly learn about ourselves?
Today I know that black and white is dull. That life is messy so that we build character, so we are challenged and compelled to choose for ourselves who we are and what is important to us. Today I believe in the chaos of color, the disorder of life. I believe that I am an artist with my very own canvas, that I am the clay waiting to be molded but I am also the sculptor, that there is no need to try to paint in only blacks and whites when there is a variety of color begging to be used.
Today I am a deliberate chameleon, changing colors on my own terms. I believe I am free to create my own masterpiece and that it needs to be shared with others, that our colors change shades as we incorporate others into our masterpiece. That they contribute to our work and we contribute to theirs. I believe that we need each other to learn, to grow, to be inspired, to truly make something of this mess of color I call life.
{photo via sodahead}
