September 23, 2021
If I were to paint what my eyes rest on today, would it truly be a still life? Is my life calm and still, arranged on purpose? A pleasing design to the eyes? Or would life be a haphazard collection of objects that happen to be in my vicinity? Am I thrown together with the easiest, closest things?
I yearn for design. For intention. For a choreography in the motions of life. For an Artist behind it all, seeing, perceiving, and loving what is seen.
When I am still, quiet at night by the purr of a cat, I wonder: will the signature on my life work ultimately be mine or Divine?