Art revolution

Lately I’ve been having long talks with Adam. Weekends are good for that! I’ve never had restful weekends, and I’m growing to really enjoy them.

I’m beginning to feel like the artful inside of me has been bundled up inside for a while now, I’m not regretful in saying that, I think that, for the bundled things, it’s sad, but I truly believe God is intent on growing every part of us and sometimes those things that are most distracting for me need to be taken away for me to focus completely on something else. Nothing is as crucial as humility. The power to create is a gift to us from God, a glimpse, a slight glimpse in a mirror of the power in His hands; and to truly make and create art, art that is part of that slight glimpse in a mirror, we must be humbled past the point of foolishly thinking it is us, that we are making the art because we are good, and beginning to understand where our creativity has come from, whom we are honoring by our creative hands. Sometimes we have to have what we hold so dearly taken away from us to remind us how much we take for granted.

I am by no means done with this artful revolution inside of me, nowhere near a shining beacon, but I realize now that I must seek Him, follow His beauty, look for it, go on adventures for it, and I will find it. It is not hidden from me because it’s not there, it’s hidden because I’ve been on the other side of the mountain, I’ve been traipsing through some mossy lands in search of something. Something I can’t quite yet define, but something I feel nudging me in the early morning hours when I look out the window and see all the green reflectors, or when my mind is completely enraptured by the poetic words of some old writer long gone, or when I hear a melody I can’t quite understand but know that it’s as simple as one, two, three.

Somewhere inside there is a basement; it’s been dank and dark, it’s housed a soul shrinking and growing all at once, then, a door opens at the top, the cobwebs are still clinging to the door, but a glow is shining through the crack. That glow is beauty. It’s come knocking.