On a rainy day, I stay home like any other sort of day. I do not go outside often because the inner world offers much, yet there are times when I must venture.

I had stayed after school to attend an Art Club meeting, but I was restless of drawing indoors. The art teacher’s room had two doors leading directly outside, and I took the first, sneaking to the woods behind the school. After short moments of wandering down the hill to straight among the trees, I found my scene, as tree-filled as any other forest segment on a day as clear as any other rainless day. The minutes passed, and I sketched my forest in pencil, then wandered back to the school.

A week gone by, and I forget the day. The time is Wednesday, and I am bored in homeroom, so I flip through my pages, and find my forest in soft, plain pencil marks, and I take my colored pencils and fill the leaves with green and blue and the skies with red and yellow.

A classmate sees me, walks over, so I look up to smile and wave at her. She asks what I am drawing, and I show her. “Wow, that’s really good, I can feel the tension,” she says. Our small talk continued in the typical ways small talk goes, but I can only remember seeing then that upon my forest I drew tension, and colored reds among blues where there were no reds. I took a forest which was and created a new one which never was, and I realize then this is the way life is.

That things come just as they are, nothing more and nothing less, and I, in my perception, create the good and the bad, the stresses and joys. That in venturing outwards I see, and in returning inwards, I create. That all the world around me is but food to my inner perceptions as I paint my own reality and life.

When on one rainy day I stay inside, I think. My life is my creation, and the world my tools.

This entry was posted on Sunday, January 24th, 2010 at 4:48 pm and is filed under Lifepost. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.