It was unlike any of the others that I sat through, this young woman’s account. I loved every minute of her story. She’d been away for over a year, living on little islands that I’d never heard of near the African Continent. She told short accounts of people she’d met and their interactions with her and her friends in a place where very little was what she was accustomed to. After concluding each remembrance, she’d go silent and I’d think,”she’s done”. Then she’d fire up again and tell another as rich and heartfelt as the one before. She told what her actual experiences were and it was impossible not to sense the reality of them.

I used this sketch to win approval from the commander to paint the image in the barracks stairwell. There, I learned a valuable lesson.

I wasn’t always a gear head. When my exhaust system fell off, I’d have to wait for it to cool, then reconnect it in my unskilled way

They switched from play to reading. Kids don’t stay kids forever. Live journal sketch

This is something I enjoy far more than theoretical discourse. There’s something glorious about hearing from the person who was actually there and actually did whatever they were describing. Sometimes, it’s just amusing.

That camping trip where we scaled the little mountain hill and picked blueberries for pie. Live journal sketch.

That’s one of the treasures of memory also. Reminding yourself of where you’ve been can be good.

Remember that little poem? The one we came up with while camping at the wooded bit of heaven that we knew only as, “the property”?

Oh, of course. You weren’t there. That was my pal Randy. Credit to him, I may not have even contributed to the little gem that I still think was quite clever. It went like this, “Earth and Fire, Rain and Wind – These are the Things that make Men Men”.

No less clever was the one penned by my good friend Jim when he and I put our heads together to respond to the call to create a class motto that last year of high school: “lend me a match and I’ll blaze you a trail”. Deep. Love that one.

There are so many stories that are true and need no embellishment that inspire! I have to believe there are far more that go untold than are shared and it’s a pity.

Somewhere, there is a woman full of joyful hope who has met a man she adores but who’s story will end in much sorrow for sure. She does not know that his life is based on creating the rush of a new romance with all it’s energy and access and nursing it along until discovery pops the bubble of fantasy and the illusion gives way to a reality that would have never passed muster. He knows the end of all the fun will come and has calculated his exit from the start but she will not believe what just happened until after giving him her whole heart in exchange for smoke and mirrors fantasy.

For her, that discovery and it’s heartache will introduce a stain and after taste that will take years to erase from her heart. He, on the other hand, will have already moved on to new prey.

We tend not to want to intrude on other lives to warn them, especially when they’re so happy with the play in which they’re unwittingly cast, though we wish we could tip them about what they’re stepping in.

The recitation of real experience can save some people grief by warning them. Others, it reinforces their positive momentum.
Ignorance isn’t anyone’s friend when dealing with the disengenuous or when experiencing a perfectly legitimate traversal through experiences that others have mastered and who could save newbies the trouble of tripping over the same little obstacles.

I think there’s serious value in learning about real experiences. It’s easy to brush off the preaching of the inexperienced, because they’re not telling what they know. They’re just rehearsing what they believe. When someone actually ‘knows’, hearing what they say about it can be golden. Particularly if they let you draw your own conclusions.

Human nature being what it is, I don’t want to tell all my stories of triumph and setback. They really aren’t so inspiring, in my opinion. Too many are downright embarrassing in how they highlight my lack of brilliance. Every good painting is a mixture of the highlights and the shadows that support the story it tells, so maybe I ought to get past that. Maybe I will.

This is a new experience for me, this thing I’m doing day by day. The only thing I know for sure beyond that it is a chance, and probably the one chance for me, is that it’s the right course right now.

Onward!