In which I describe the picture I haven’t painted.
I saw a picture in my head.
There was empty space and three circles. A big yellow one in the middle, I’ll call it the sun. Two smaller ones, of equal size, orbiting it at the same distance. A blue rock and a green rock.
The blue rock and the green rock started out next to each other. They were the same in many ways, at least one of them thought. They liked being close.
The rocks started orbiting in different speeds and directions. They moved away from each other. Then they crashed, and the green rock got knocked off course. It got drawn closer to the sun. And the sun was not just light, it was also fire. The green rock couldn’t see where it was going. It didn’t want to go to the sun. It wanted to spin around with the blue rock.
This was distressing, until the green rock saw that maybe the blue rock would come to the sun too. And they could be close and warm and happy together. But the blue rock kept spinning.
And so the green rock used all it’s energy to run from the sun, to the blue rock. The sun was too strong.
Then the green rock realised that, as long as it looked at the blue rock through the sun, instead of around it, everything was light.
Still the green rock hoped to meet the blue rock, but it knew now, the sun was stronger, and more than that, the sun was home.
In my picture, I was the green rock and the sun was truth, or love, or where I have to go, and the blue rock is where I want to be near to. My picture showed me that I can’t control much, but I can accept it. It isn’t a picture I like all the time, but it’s a way maybe for me to see that I always have a choice about my attitude and approach and perspective. I can’t choose the things I am drawn to, whether they are good or bad or incompatible. I can choose to use the light to connect the dots.