Organized Chaos
Blank Canvas
Simple pleasures spiked with pain, until troublesome hits again. Half hesitant, half confident, I’ve always had a soft heart made of paint. I've let the colors drip and dye, tint and dry, staining my soul with pigments of a million lives. Staring at the endless possibilities, light shades remind me: dark necessities are part of my design.
A brush stroke, a spectrum of colors, a blank canvas — infinite combinations. Order, composition, tension. Saturated, I look for balance, light, harmony. Layers, all at once, simultaneously unfold and seal, leaving no space for washed out corners. A vision, a million of them, tumultuously cross my mind in hopes that I grab a pen and give them life. Paint drips, words speak, nurturing and nourishing thoughts that rapidly sink in a sea of insecurities. I stare at the blank canvas, so simple yet so overwhelming, and I almost immediately feel threatened by all the possibilities.
I let it sink in for a minute. Why do I feel so anxious when it comes to new beginnings? Sinking deeper, I realize this anxiety also carries a load of excitement: I'm just so intimidated by the idea of throwing myself head first into the unknown that I forget that's exactly where the most thrilling discoveries lie. As I peep into this corner of my mind, I ask myself: Am I doing what's right or simply what feels right?
While the unknown initially looks dark and unappealing, I realize it is also home to some of the brightest, most vibrant colors. It shelters the tones that not everyone dares to use, the pigments that add the finishing touch to an unexpected masterpiece. The unknown — that place that makes my stomach turn, my heart race and urges me to bite my nails — turns out to be a colorful land in a monochromatic world. And curiously enough, the unknown, just like ourselves, is in a constant state of change: transforming and ultimately reflecting the person we are trying to become.
The unknown switches, slowly offers us relief and adjusts itself to our new goals, wants and needs —suddenly turning into our own comfort zones. The crazy part is that the shift is so subtle, most of us don't even notice it happening. You break the patterns that are stopping you to evolve and when you least expect, the unknown becomes your haven, your sanctuary, your safe space. That anxiety turns into stillness, with the certainty that this new territory is safe, protected and invulnerable.
Realizing that I’m cozily sitting in my comfort zone, I ponder: am I living in it, temporarily visiting or urging to get out? It's no secret that some of us blossom faster than others — some take the longer path to find their journey and some find it easy, even enjoyable, to throw themselves deep in the unknown. The difference between those people is how they approach their comfort zone.
As I stare at my blank canvas, simultaneously scared and delighted by the infinite possibilities, I come to terms with my inner paradox: while my comfort zone certainly is a very nice place to call home, it is when I’m out of it that I feel the most vulnerable. And as I feel the most vulnerable; on the edge of the unknown, with newfound colors introducing me to a special kind of glow, I realize, that's also when I feel the most alive.
