Imagine a tree… A beautiful big evergreen tree with stretched out branches standing alone on a hilltop. In complete solitude surrounded only by endless fields as far as the eye can see.
As the seasons change the tree slowly grows, losing a few leaves with age, it’s bark growing thicker. Children sit in it’s shade and play in it’s branches. It’s swayed by the wind but remains firmly rooted and can not be harmed by the strongest cross winds. Where it gets bruised it tries to heal itself with sap.
Through all the changes the tree grows, it’s filled with marks and scars, each one holds it’s own story. With time the tree changes, branches break off, and new ones grow in their place. The essence of the tree never changes, only it’s appearance changes.
It makes no difference how many children play around it, or how many people rest in it’s shade, they are only just visitors to the landscape and see the tree as their temporary comfort. in the end, the tree remains standing in solitude on the hill.
I feel like that tree. Expected to change but unable because I’m so deeply rooted in my views an moral standings, so what can change is in appearance only but not in essence. Trying to provide shelter and comfort only to be used as a temporary measure. Not easily hurt by mild setbacks, unmoved by the “cross winds”, but damaged and left with scars. Surrounded by people that will never look up and realize the “shade” I provide for them. And in the end, standing alone in a beautiful landscape, but nevertheless alone.
I have had a nagging feeling of desperation lately.
I haven’t put brush to canvas in ages and sorely feel the need to. Strange thing though, I have had moments where I stood painting and thought “just give it up”. I’m by no means super talented and have painted many things I thought came out horrible.
Thinking back to when my girls painted there first huge painting together, the process of meticulously planning it, their excitement and the satisfaction they felt after completing it. It makes me realize that it’s not about being super talented, but more about being able to have a vice where you can express yourself.
Sigh… I need the smell of oil paint and turpentine. Really need to steal some time and paint something…anything