Originally written on January 7, 2021
There have been a lot of tiny moments of good that have brought me here. My hope is that they continue to grow and outweigh the difficult ones. The hurtful ones. The ones that knock the wind out of me and leave me to crawl my way back. The good moments have been difficult too but in a way that feels like a release. That moment before you are able to unscrew the lid off a new jar of tomato sauce. It releases with a satisfying pop. The pressure was built up but once it’s able to let go I can breathe.
When I’m feeling lost. Unable to take a step forward. Stuck in ideas or self doubt. If I think of the tiniest good thing that could meet me on the next part of my journey I get a little bit of motivation. I don’t feel this way every day. Sometimes I think I’ll never figure out where I belong or how I belong there. Other times my glasses are so tinted with rose that I become too optimistic and loose sight of everything else. I’m still finding the balance between optimism and delusion.
When I get in a panic about the future, the mysterious, the unknown, and I start to spiral what typically brings me back to earth is the small stuff. Some deep conscious breaths. Listening to my gut. A walk in nature. Zooming in on the tiniest specifics instead of being confused by the whole big picture. Like that pointillism painting “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte” by George Seurat but my version is in reverse. I need the points. The tiny dots that build the whole picture. To look at the small sections and see how they are minimal but so full. How they are connected.
I imagine the process of painting it was a labour of love. An idea of how it would turn out but needed to focus on the present moment, the next tiny dot, before celebrating the final product. That’s where I’m at right now. Trying to celebrate each tiny little speck that I add to the giant painting of my life. Having an idea about the final picture but being open to changes, shifts, and new perspectives as they arrive.
I wonder how long that painting took. I saw it once. When I was in Chicago. I went to the art museum for hours. I rounded a corner and there it was. It’s the size of a wall. Huge. I felt like I was in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. It was the exact same room. It felt surreal. There are so many place, or things, I never thought I would see growing up. I remember thinking of New York and Toronto as these magical worlds that were so far away. Now I’ve lived in both places. New York for one short summer and Toronto for 8 years. Tiny points on my bigger picture. Slowly coming into focus. What’s sustaining me right now is knowing that more tiny points are coming. I’ll try my best to celebrate each one.
