The Easel

The Master Painter stood before the canvas. The canvas was blank. Its boundaries unlimited having neither height nor width. Before Him lay all the supplies one skilled in the art of drawing could ask for. I was not among those gifted in such a manner. I had been summoned to His side all the same.

Master~ I cannot paint and am only a vessel of commonality upon this your earth. Could it be that you will instruct me, that I may paint in at least a simplistic but recognizable manner? The Master smiled. “And so it shall be” He spoke.

He paid no attention to the names of the many supplies saying only that I would have it made known to me, which things would be needed, as they were called for. It was instruction in the knowledge and use of colors that I was to be given. Then I must go about the job of splashing the colors upon the canvas to make up a picture. Unsure and uncertain I stood at the crossroads and listened carefully to the Master.

“Colors go beyond a color wheel” He spoke in gentle tone. “The colors you shall put upon the canvas will be composed of many things. There is the color found upon the soul and things within nature that I speak of. There is Mr. S with the color or arthritis and Mrs. K with the color of Cancer. There is the child born this morning whose mind and body will never be well. Its parents drank of alcoholic beverages beyond wisdom. They took of illicit drugs as the child was conceived and continued that behavior as the child grew within the womb. They thought these things wise and fun. This child has its own color. There is the color of dictatorship. I call it Mr. H. This one has a brush that is alienated from the others before you. It sits alone. It is a stubby brush short and cropped as would be a severe mustache above a lip. It is the darkest of all colors. It must be overcome and toned down greatly. The colors we have already talked of are dark and often drain the spirit. Be aware they are there.” He elaborated on more of these darker colors. Now with tears within His gentle eyes, he dismissed further talk of those dark but very important colors.

Look to the heavens and see the millions upon millions, upon even more millions of holes the angels have poked through the night sky. See the sparkling of the gold and silvers to be found there. Let it be the light that overpowers the severity of the darkness. Look there to the leaf that has lost most of its color and detaches itself now from its lifeline parent. It dances to the ground and rests now, with its cousins, aunts and uncles. It makes for mankind a soft carpet to walk or gaze upon. In this carpet you will see all shades of reds, yellows, browns and greens. Perhaps there will be shades of other colors. Hear the children as they come upon this carpet I have laid out for them as well. They will leap upon it, fall, and make happy laughter. They will have a companionship of innocence with their playmates at such times as this. That laughter and joy will have its own bright colors as well. This fun making will became both memory and barrier against some later pain in life, as the children become the adults of tomorrow. That is yet another color. Look at the laughter of the fluffy white clouds as they race to hide the suns rays and bring upon us shade. This pleasure is a color as well. The sun now jumps before the clouds and warms that coatless soul or the person with arthritis. Come now the clouds of even more varied shades. They are ready to spill their moisture upon the earth and bring forth growth as well as to quench the thirst within all creatures I have made. There to the East is the color of my lightening. It also has its place and color. All things have color and with colors come also knowledge."

Having said this, the Master faded back into my heart leaving me to paint my own picture. What kind of picture would you paint?

©April 2004 (Easter Sunday) 7:05 p.m. by Vickey Stamps