I remember my first blow dryer. It’s easy to do because I got it when I started grade school and brought it with me to college. I wore the name off, but it still worked. I stopped counting after that. It seems I need a new one every few months. Planned Obsolescence – things are built not to last. And it would be easy to become swept up in this trend – (I wish it were only a trend) – but I want things to have value, to last.

It is in our nature to create things that will continue, that will stay, that will survive the beating of time. That’s why they painted on the cave walls, carved statues, built Coliseums. When I visited Rome for the first time, it didn’t take my breath away, it gave me breath – breathed a life into me that I too wanted to create – a life that continues, that matters, that lives. And so I paint, and I write, not that these canvases or books will live forever, but that you will know my heart, and it will help you see your own, and others see theirs. This can last forever.

A few days ago, I posted the blog about picking rock at my grandpa’s farm. Someone shared that post and someone saw that shared post. This stranger shared his story of picking rock, of how he didn’t cry when he hurt his finger on the rocks, how he felt like a man for the first time. He shared his story, and someone else liked it. My story lived again and again.

I can’t change the passing of time, but I can decide what is disposable, and that will never include my heart. That will never include your heart. Pass it on.