Returning from night-time preparations for Homecoming activities with a bustling group of Seniors: This is a moment I cherish in the flow of seasons of being what I am.
Caught between the service to others and explosion of chaotic creativity that causes me to rush at all directions and yet find myself still, in that place where a beautiful world is whirling around in its own rhythm offering us passage to opportunities beyond what our meek imaginations claim.
A chance to put up that model-ship mast, decorate that wedding tent in flowers, join my voice in the chorus of a bonding song; all calling me to take part in a bigger piece of art which forms the framework of the world.
For in each little stitch, each little step I take, each load I lift, I paint a little more of the monotonous with a stroke of heartfelt interest. The masterpiece of our cumulative un-synchronized efforts begins to weave the path of survival through the tragedies of the past into a way through the future.
A million tragedies are met by a billion hopes for the future; in broken homes and fading languages, empty libraries and homeless men, we can find a nascent child, a home to fill, a hand to hold.
This is the sketch I see, and in myself I see a tool to begin painting. I am untrained and inexperienced. But I enter the world with an open mind, a passion for human progress and a mentality of solving problems and giving my all to any work I do.
