Pure Joy...When I Grow Up

One of my favorite lines, one that fits me personally is from a Michael Franks song: "In the Yellow House," the opening line: "No one knows the joy, when you create, by definition, something out of nothing..." What one does not comprehend, until you contemplate your life from another vantage point, is the unique shape and form of it. Aspects of your character, likes and dislikes, and the individual parts that fit and do not; they are all part of a whole.

I'm still growing. Each day is an opportunity to shape and reshape my life to be what I and God desire it to be. There are many expressions and points by which I connect with this world, but the longer I live, the more I realize I don't fit into the 'average American' mold. I labor at software testing, I'm a parent and husband, but there is a vital part of me that remains formless and nearly untapped.

"No one knows the joy, when you create, by definition, something out of nothing..." Another world exists in the moments I spend with a paintbrush in hand, in front of a canvas. When I sit with pencil poised above paper, I'm at my highest joy and it does not require chemical stimulation or have terrible 'after-effects.' When I grow up, I want this aspect of living to fill my days and the joy to be known to all. My Pure Joy...when I create...

A Moment...

A snippet from Portrait of the Artist Gaining insight

The following is an excerpt from a poem written a few years ago, called "A Moment..." For the most part, we live our best lives, in the moment. God's peace rest on you, this moment:

 

A pleasant dream

With a cozy ending

Followed by a gentle stirring

As you awake to a sunny day

You stretch

Smile

Full of energy from your mind’s movie

But as your feet touch the floor

The haunting of the same old grind

The car that won’t start

The….

And the….

Plus the…

Send that dream down the drain

Taking with it the joy you felt

A moment

Passes in a minute

Some are lost

‘Cause we are looking in the wrong place

Others

Get called up to remind us

Caution us

Warm our hearts

Or stop our tracks

And somehow

Someway

They are lost

Brushed away like pesky flies

When we choose to focus on

The here and now

The “never will be”

And the lost happenstance