I’ve never been much of a digger. I know its fairly typical for dogs to dig and bury and all that, but I never got the point of it. I live in the moment. As a result, I see art everywhere. This most basic form of expressionism is amidst our daily lives just waiting for us to breathe life into it.
I breathe life into the snowflakes of Wisconsin winters, into the smell of grass in the springtime and into the beautiful sunsets of summer.
I breathe it into pictures drawn by the little people in my lives, like the one Sophie drew of my adoptive parents and I. I can’t help but notice the flying fish in the sky of the portrait and smile. I feel that way sometimes, like the fish defying all odds and flying amidst the birds. I dream in the sky, seeing art in words written by great thinkers, lyrics sung by influential singers, and thoughts unspoken by lost loved ones.
Kind of like Peggy, a character who came to English folk singer Frank Turner in his sleep to say “it doesn’t matter where you come from, it matters where you go.”
These words strike a chord with me, one who does well to suppress memories of the past. I was an emotional mess in my past. Why would I ever want to relive that? The optimist in me prefers not to relive those moments. But today I realize my inner optimist has perhaps been doing me a disservice. There were good times amidst those suppressed memories that may have a positive impact on where I am going in life.
I call to the witness stand my mom and my brothers, who I loved and lost. I have many happy memories with them in that first month before we were separated. After that, I have memories of Scotty and Pheobe who I met during my time on the streets. Then Rusty and all the people who cared for me at the humane society. These faces are the rays of sunshine in my otherwise dark past. I owe it to them to respect the crucial role they played in my life then and now. They all became part of who I am today, and without them I would not have developed my current philosophy on joy, from the ground up. In fact, they make up the majority of the beautiful mosaic of memories that empower me on a daily basis.
I’ve never been much of a digger. Now that I know why, I think its due time I do some digging to develop the art of my past. Just because I’m not able to see all the colors in God’s crayon box doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate sources of art all around me. So today I choose to see all the art in my life: past, present and future. After all, it doesn’t matter where I came from. It matters where I go.