Henry David Thoreau wrote that “this world is but a canvas to our imaginations.” Truly, the possibilities are endless; existence offers a full palette of color, every hue available.
Sometimes, I forget that, especially on days when I am immersed in ongoing political resistance. I have a tendency to live my life in separate scenes, and when I do, I don’t use all the colors of my day.
If I leave my Zen at home or here in a post, I am not taking advantage of the complete canvas available to me, as if the only color on my palette is activism.
My entire life is a canvas, chopped into scenes–seemingly–but there is a continuity to the practice that is my life, even when it’s not readily apparent.
So often I feel separate from my own scenes but that is the oneness of existence.
Myriad experiences—the infinite field of possibilities—ever await. My canvas—my life—will only be complete when I color my last scene.
So, if I don’t bring a full palette—the colors of each day—the scene lacks luster. It is easy to be strident–the color of self–when I am, its many hues dominate the scene.
Admittedly, I live to tweet an original Zen koan. That alone keeps me open to every color on my palette.
If I meet the world as a blank canvas and not with the idea of setting the scene as I would like it to look, then I am restrained only by imagination, and that means access to a full palette.
Who knows what or who is affected–maybe even changed–because of the colors I choose. It is a sobering responsibility to know endless possibilities.