:Artwork:

I just want to share a piece of artwork that I've just recently finished. It's not "conventional", per se, in the sense that it still centers around words (my primary method of "painting")... but it is, in the sense that it DOES contain paints and colours, thanks to my daughter.

So in effect, it's a co-crafted piece that I really like. It's the first time I've tried something like this, so it was an experiment in a lot of ways, but I was pretty happy with the result.

So here it is (sorry, the scanner wasn't QUITE big enough to get it all, so the edges are missing on a couple sides):

And here's what it all says:

“Red & Green”

Artwork: My Daughter, Age 2

Words: Sam Geleynse, May, 2013

I just don't understand the way things work in life

And it seems that there's always a war in my mind

Where I can't seem to outrun these trials I find

And my heart screams out for a change to come inside.

I find myself running from who I know I am,

Because I'm scared of who I know I have become.

Or maybe it's not that this is who I am,

But it is who I've been,

So here you find me.

The thing is that I just want to figure this out—

To have just some answers to counter my doubt—

To curb all my worry and silence their shouts;

I just want Lord to see, but I feel like I can't.

It feels like life's making a game out of this.

I know that these things are not in my control,

Yet it seems that I'm bent on running them all.

Why is it that when I most want to trust

Seems to be just when my capacity to trust gives up?

Why can I run myself so ragged and then still never grab hold

Of the reality of the things I'm doing to myself?

Why, why, why?

Let go... But how?

To trust... But with what?

So then there are the times my head and heart feel like the chaos on this page--

A mass of black and red and green and blue each somehow symbolizing something and even in the midst of all the visual noise,

I know quiet...

But quiet in the sense that I know... not in the sense that I feel...?

This seems to be one of those times when you realize

That the longest journey really IS from head to heart.

But then you also realize that your head feels--or is ill-equipped to—tackle its part of the journey,

And your heart just feels too tired to even try and take the first step.

But it's that first step that needs to be taken, because without it, the journey will never even happen.

But I suppose THAT may be the point—as long as the journey isn't taking place, nothing is changing.

And if nothing is changing, then you're actually dead, aren't you?

Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems to me that last time I checked,

Dead men weren't much use to anyone,

Except to mourn over what was and what might have been, had said man still been breathing.

The thing to me all comes down to this and the fact

That just because you're a breathing, biological being doesn't mean you're alive.

It seems that life is more than living alone;

Life is thriving, dreaming, laughing, loving, making

—in the end—the most of the days you're given so that in the end no one can say of you:

“He never lived”

...So how do we live?

How do we thrive?

How do we make sure that in the end, they can look at us and say with no hesitation whatsoever--

“He made the journey happen!”

Where?

What?

Why?

When?

How?

We're taught to value these questions from a young age, but I have to ask—

Have they bred a need for answers to everything?

Have they eliminated our ability to be okay with mystery?

With the unknown?

With the things we don't understand and may never have answers for,

And should be simply taking on faith?

When did knowing become so necessary?

Do I really need to know?

Do I?