I think it’s safe to say I am acquainted with quite a few people in this world. But it is even safer to say, I know, really know, only a few. I guess to know someone, you can’t just see the lovely painting of their life. The finished product. Perfectly on display. When you are privileged enough to really know someone, they let you see their palette. All the messy colors that created the art of their life. The colors of each lesson learned. Each struggle survived. The tears and laughter. The victories and burdens. The efforts of each application to the canvas. Sometimes thrown. Sometimes stroked.
It’s messy to love people. But what a beautiful honor. When someone offers you a peak into their soul, a walk through the palette of their heart – take it! But also, take care as you step through the vulnerability of the beautiful imperfections. Meld their colors with yours and see what life can bring.
Sometimes, when wearing my painting clothes, (or in most cases, I could just say clothes, because they all eventually get a little splattered), I remember which painting the color belongs to. And I am connected to the art. The memory. I am connected to my own life.
Often in the art world, people want a certificate of authenticity. Proof that it’s real. I suppose we all want that in everything. So I show you my heart, my palette, the paint on my hands, on my pants, and give you this vulnerable view so you can know that it’s a safe place — a safe place for us all to show our true colors — and delight in the the wondrous splatter of it all!