BEFORE THE FIRST STROKE

So many colors to paint with,

yet as the artist sees the image upon the blank canvas,

the bright whiteness strains the perception of the vision.

Rather than stroke the painter’s brush too quickly,

creation may become more meaningful

when one steps forward and holds the brush still—

before the bristles touch the pure white canvas.

There is a hesitation,

a pause not to mark too soon

what possibility is still waiting to become.

In that moment of stillness

the artist searches not for what is already known,

but for what may yet be imagined.

And when even the smallest stroke of color

begins the process,

creation and inspiration

walk hand in hand.

Perhaps life is not so different from the blank canvas.

We stand before it with many colors within us—memories, hopes, pain, love, and imagination.

Yet wisdom may be found in the moment before we begin, when we pause long enough to feel what truly belongs on the canvas of our lives.

And when the first quiet stroke finally appears, it is not rushed or forced, but placed with intention, allowing creation itself to gently guide what comes next.