PICTURES AND FRAMES
I paint my way into the corners of the frame. Each picture I fill diligently, color, texture, all the tricks I use. I work hard to get the desired effect. I hold nothing back; I put heart and hopes forward. I load my brush with pigment; I propel my tongue out of my mouth. I use it for balance like a kangaroo uses its tail. Stroke after stroke, I layer the image. My depiction is fresh to me. I bring the green, the red, the blue, blue, blues; all of those flow from me. The canvas fills; my soul soars through the tinctures. Then the disappointment begins, the complaint and lamentations. The perspective is off. I can’t seem to contain this scene within the confines of this gilded prison. I re-adjust. I tilt my head; I paint from the bottom up, then the top down. No, no. I must pick up a new canvas, the frame oak, burnished and honeyed brown. I cast to the side the gilt and sculptured casing; I lay it along the wall with the others, the many discards of life. As yet, the obvious has escaped me; the tint, the hue, angle, size may diverge but that is all. I have recreated the same scene in all the frames. In all my attempts, I have painted only one picture.
Learn your process.
Resisting tough love
is approaching long run action
with short run thinking.
I hate to set the toddling babe down lest he fall,
but in the end if I do not put him down
he and I will both be the worse for it.
Whether I see a forest or I see trees
depends so very much on my perspective,
also on my willingness to delay
the prevention of minor scrapes
to eliminate the need for permanent scaring.
The theme is greater personal responsibility
and less irrational fear.
Guarding tomorrow’s possibilities
by not hamstringing them today
through the resistance of tough love
saves lives, it saves mine.