Tag: perspective

Re: Canvas

Lovely are the days when the sky is like canvas: It can be milky white, soft grey, or baby blue, as any base colour will do. It’s the expectancy that’s magical. You might be thinking specifics (ex. visual art) but I am going to explore all of life as a canvas, where the individual can make a uniquely authoritative impression. 

We have the ultimate authority to decide once the accident of our birth has passed. Some have advantage. Some are squelched. Some are burdened by culture. Some must push against obstacles while others leap over them. The world is not fair and restrictions exist, but our personal authority is what matters. This is freedom: we get to decide. I wish that all humanity had the same opportunities to decide that I have felt through my existence. Freedom means choice, and I have had a lot of free choice when it has come to painting my canvas. 

While you are canvassing your thoughts about this idea of personal authority, consider how we do that during an election. I’ve volunteered to canvas my neighbourhood for various political parties. Anyone who has done this knows it can be risky. You are making yourself vulnerable to another person’s opinion. We may not all reside under the same canvas tent. Some of my favourite interactions have been when I’ve been allowed as a canvasser to respectfully present my view while the canvas-ee shows how they’ve painted their life in a pleasing way. We can agree to disagree because I believe Politics is like Art: It’s subjective.

My dad was a visual artist. He would get excited over a fresh square of canvas. The placement of the equipment was deliberate. He needed time to see his work before he had even begun to outline it. Inspiration and planning; all rolled into a single musical thought. I would watch him humming as he made his first brushstroke, much like a sailor might raise his canvas sail hoping that the wind would blow, just right, to send his craft onward. A baby must feel this same sensation on rising onto two legs for the first time. With new height comes an expanded view, with unknown possibilities. “Wait!” thinks the tot, “I’d better sit down for a minute to process.” Parents, anxiously watching, may have their own designs on this blank canvas they’ve recently birthed, but their authority won’t last long.

Ultimately the decisions will be ours to make. Some of our choices will depend on current fashion. What we display on our conscious canvas may be at odds with current trends or we may wish to seek a common thread. Likely, who we are will be a work-in-progress. Some may have their canvas damaged like a storm distorts the peaceful blue of the sky. But most things can be mended with time. We may choose to cover-over what came before, so we can make a space for what is yet-to-be. Or we can quilt the fragments of our past to blend with what is now. It’s up to us.

Re: Empty

Emptiness can be both positive and negative. For example an empty calendar can be refreshing: There is no responsibility or must-do event waiting to corral your attention. Under those blank circumstances you can empty your thoughts if you wish or cram them with long denied pleasures. The negative part of emptiness suggests a void: A vast expanse of nothingness. I’ve had that feeling after a relationship break-up or a sudden loss. I felt so empty of ambition in those moments, my head seemed vacant of all ideas except a nagging question, “What am I going to do now?”

Generally speaking, I’ve been a ‘Glass half full’ sort of fellow, so if my vessel empties it’s because I need a rest, not because I’ve adopted a negative vibe. A soul can be depleted, that’s for sure, so it’s important to always check your levels to see if a top-up is required. I’m a guy who likes to keep the gas tank above the half-full line. I remember being highly anxious over a song that showed exultation over driving a car while ‘running on empty’. I imagine that scenario casting me into a void of no return. Not my kind of fun.

In my teens my mom admitted to being numb, emptied of emotion, because her relationship with my dad had been depleted. It was a sad time for all of us in the family that had once enjoyed relative abundance within the restrictions of a low-budget existence. Looking back on those depressing months before reconciliation, we all could have been described as walking wounded, barren of possibilities, grasping for mere survival. Board games had once been our favourite group activity. Now, in real life, we were playing a zero-sum game.

Most will run away from emptiness because we equate it to loneliness.  But an empty space or even a brief expanse of time can beckon. An empty container is often pictured on a still-life visual art canvas. It has beauty in form and structure all on its own. Being empty means the light can shine through and around in fascinating ways. A container can be full-some, in and of itself. Forms of yoga or meditation allow us to realize that an empty mind can be a starting point to new ideas. Going blank can lead to a refreshed way of thinking and understanding. There is a new car freshness to having a clean slate. An empty vessel can also suggest an expectation of forthcoming change or the approach of being filled with a hopeful breath of new life. Metaphors abound!

When I pass a hotel or apartment complex and see a No Vacancy sign I usually feel sad. I wonder why there is no more room to shelter someone in need. I feel badly for those missing out on a chance to stay, even for a little while, and experience what that place has to offer. But a flashing Vacancy is invitational. This place is Open for Business! Those in-between spaces, neither full nor empty, need our attention.

Re: Grey

Some words like Grey get as much attention as a senior citizen waiting in line at a bank. The word Grey/Gray even comes with two spellings, which my computer doesn’t appreciate. I think that gray has more complexity than the colour tone it describes. I’m grey; of hair, of perspective and sometimes of mood. Let me explain.

My hair has grayed slowly. My mom predicted that I would be bald by age thirty, but my hair persisted. I went through a salt and pepper phase but now, at age seventy, there are very few dark strands left on my head. So I am officially a ‘Grey Hair’; a term I used to use with some disrespect when referring to members of committees who’s opinions I didn’t share. Now, I like the way my grey hair lends me the illusion of wisdom, like Gandalf the Grey. I won’t use a hair dye. I used to feel sad when I saw female church elders who had tinted their soft grey locks with a blueing agent. (I quietly nicknamed them Blue Belles to cheer myself up).

Life is filled with shades of grey. Many folk feel that the world is either black or white. Some actually prefer seeing things as either/or. I suppose it makes it easier to decide yes or no. But events or ideas are rarely as singular as that. Taking a hard line on a topic means that the soft fringy edges will get ignored. Darkness and light have spectrums of illumination, tone, and pastel perspective. To me, grey does not suggest mediocrity of opinion or design. I’m quite content to see issues as shades of grey.  When I evaluate things I can sometimes rank them according to priorities, like selecting shades of colour when I am repainting my living spaces. I once painted all the walls in my home a light grey and was amazed how they took on a different colour as dawn moved into dusk. It reminded me of how my dad taught me to watch patiently for a rainbow to emerge through the greyness of a rainy day.

I admit that overcast days can make me moody, yet I tend to do my best writing on a grey cloudy day. In bright sunlight I have an urge to do silly things in a forest or on a beach, but on a hazy, darkened day I can somehow make better decisions. Where I live now, the skies are often tissue white, which is a remarkably happy, less stressful, contrast to the intensity of a cloudless stark blue sky. I remember being surprised when my wife and I previewed our wedding pictures; I hadn’t noticed that the skies were a light ash shade. When the sun set on our lengthy joyous pictorial, the sky behind and above us had exploded with a stunning pumpkin red wash that looked digitally manufactured.

The neutrality of grey can suggest a potential for inclusion. All colours are then complementary rather than competitive. Perhaps we can get to yes more effectively by starting with grey.