I have stopped wrestling with life. I have given up trying to change the people around me or fight with my past. It’s an uphill battle and I am bound to lose. I guess, it’s just the way it is, the momentum of history is just too strong. Like the weather, it just can’t be any other way, despite our illusions of free will or “infinite possibility”. I have begun to view it as a sort of art. Life IS a sort of painting. For some, the colors are bright, for some it’s dark blue, black or grey. Regardless, it IS a type of art, GOD’s art, that we are this way. Who am I to critique god’s work? Thy will be done! One could say, from the point of view of the artist, it’s perfect. No matter how imperfect the characters might be, the story itself is supreme perfection. Even the resistance, sadness and the dissatisfaction is part of the story. I am just part of this painting.
One hell of a painting.
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