Confession: driving at nighttime turns me into the best of contemplatives. Or maybe the worst? I think it has something to do with how dark it is in Idaho. And when the fall weather comes creeping in, it fuels my brain like manure.
Sometimes in the half hour drive home I see my life in an entirely different light. As if I've been walking around with poor eyesight and I finally put glasses on.
Life is not a formula. There are no twelve easy steps to success and happiness. Sometimes I think life is not even chronological. Life is a painting, full of color and strokes, shadows and blurred lines and brilliant representation.
So what does my painting look like? It sure looks a lot different than I thought it would. I think I've been painting in grays and blues for the past ten months. I've been building layer upon layer but nothing is taking shape. But that doesn't mean that my painting is not advancing. The most important thing I have learned about painting is that sometimes it takes a lot of muddling to achieve my vision.
When I don't paint, it is because I don't have hope. And in my life I can't move forward if I don't have hope.
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