i make life art

my sunday is when i sit and ponder and scribble my thoughts on paper. and blog.  suddenly, there is this note i see in your hand writing that catches my attention, takes my breath away, it always does.  i have it tucked in my journal of thoughts of you.  it is that one phrase you penned some time ago:  your life is art!

i return to those words often, thinking, feeling along them, leaning up against them, contemplating, musing on what they mean.  you wrote those words in your exuberant scroll, black ink dancing with exclamation marks!

and nearly every time i see your words, (sometimes i do not need to read them, i know), i would think of grabbing my pen right there, too, quick!  to write you back, asking if you knew about the layer of dust atop my vintage desk, crammed with framed photographs of the women of the villa?

the way my closet insists on being open (broken the door of it a year ago, and never got the time to have my handyman fix it)?

the way my shop downstairs claims, but fails each time, to be organized?  
i want to tell you, for all the shiny and polished floors that you see at my living room area, the sparkly tiled toilet and kitchen floors, i know some corners, some crannies that you might not deem art.  bwahahaha!

but perhaps i should.  maybe i am still learning, that it is not perfection that makes one's life a work of art.  it is how one sees.  it takes me every day to wrap the corners of my heart around it:  beauty is not a product to be found in the material world, it is the function of the way my eyes and my soul work together.  this is my constant conscious choice, every minute.

therein, is the making of the art. 

so, everyday, i remember and my eyes frame my collection of mismatched crocks, my soul frames the spilling tubes of paints that breed like rabbits.
some days i remember that in the working out of a one-piece life, this weaving the force is making of my life, the whole of it becomes beauty.

parts of my life cannot be cut up in the framing.  when i say my life is my art, i am framing the whole of it.  really, all lives are art when rightly seen.
all lives become masterful still lifes when we still to see the moments as beauty.

life becomes art when i attend to the colours of the now.  so, you, too, my dearest, pick up your moments, they are all frameable.

for afterall, he only paints exquisite brushstrokes. . .and you and i, we are his masterpieces.

thank you for my daily realization that each moment is but a brushstroke.  ilysm!  ♥ ♥ ♥

photo credits:  OsacnaB