Small Splashes of Color
I cannot tell you how many seasons have been packed into this short season of my life. In under one year, I have experienced like five years worth of experiences.
I recently had a game night with some old friends. As I was driving to where we would be hanging out, it struck me vaguely but poignantly that I was a whole new creature. I'm not completely 100% different, but it's like Pokemon: Pikachu is quite different from Pichu, and Raichu is quite different from Pikachu. They're in the same evolutionary series, but — especially if you've played the games — they're quite different.
Now, imagine some series of like one-hundred changes, and it's been more than that.
I have a lot of the same, old habits. I don't look much different. My name is still the same and whatnot. However, it is both like thin veils have been peeled off, and new layers of paint have been brushed on.
I don't know if you've ever painted, but if you've done some kind of progressive art, some craft where you work in stages, you will perhaps know what I mean. With painting sometimes, I get stuck. I don't want to applying any colors because of how much I feel it will change the picture. It can be the smallest blip, but it still feels like a monumental change. The teacher of the class that I take emphasizes often how much a small stroke of color can connect a painting or put a painting into disarray.
In other words — in terms of magnitude — small splashes of color have been added here and there. However — in terms of overall impact — tremendous changes have been made over and over and over again.
All this to say that I feel so different almost each and every day.
I recently had a game night with some old friends. As I was driving to where we would be hanging out, it struck me vaguely but poignantly that I was a whole new creature. I'm not completely 100% different, but it's like Pokemon: Pikachu is quite different from Pichu, and Raichu is quite different from Pikachu. They're in the same evolutionary series, but — especially if you've played the games — they're quite different.
Now, imagine some series of like one-hundred changes, and it's been more than that.
I have a lot of the same, old habits. I don't look much different. My name is still the same and whatnot. However, it is both like thin veils have been peeled off, and new layers of paint have been brushed on.
I don't know if you've ever painted, but if you've done some kind of progressive art, some craft where you work in stages, you will perhaps know what I mean. With painting sometimes, I get stuck. I don't want to applying any colors because of how much I feel it will change the picture. It can be the smallest blip, but it still feels like a monumental change. The teacher of the class that I take emphasizes often how much a small stroke of color can connect a painting or put a painting into disarray.
In other words — in terms of magnitude — small splashes of color have been added here and there. However — in terms of overall impact — tremendous changes have been made over and over and over again.
All this to say that I feel so different almost each and every day.
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