Suppose
Suppose we thought of ourselves as artists.
If only, we could stop negating our own abilities
and our own creativity.
Suppose we gave ourselves permission to go with the flow
and allowed all the pieces to come together on their own
and trust we would see it create itself in the process.
Suppose we allowed ourselves to relate
to ourselves,
to others,
and to the world.
I remember, once being told,
to relate is to create.
When we learn to relate to each other,
we fit all the pieces of who we are together
and create a beauty in who we are
and what we have
we could not have done alone.
We become a work of art.
We become the puzzle of life,
solved and revealing.
Suppose we took this ability
to fit things together
and create art in all we do.
Whether it is the way we fit words together,
or ingredients
or textures,
or cells,
or moments of time
each time we fit things together,
we create art
and we allow the world to see us
for the artist we are.
Our work may not hang in a museum,
but who we are
and what we create
circulates
in the gallery of life.
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