Much has been said of “the blank canvas” – some artists perceive it as the enemy, others as an exciting gateway to the creative process. But it’s not just artists who face the blank canvas – it’s all of us.

Every day, we wake up to another round of 24 hours on which nothing is written/painted, and so much is possible. As our day unfolds, the choices we make begin to paint a picture. And at the end of the day, we can step back and view the picture we created. We can judge our creation, we can dump it in the trash and vow to create something more beautiful, more meaningful, tomorrow. We can accept our work. We might even be inspired by what we’ve created.

When I’m in my studio, with a primed wood panel hanging from the wall before me, something happens. Whether it’s anxiety, fear, boredom, anger, or a surge of excitement running through me, there is no denying the fact that I AM ALIVE.

The blank canvas is not only symbolic of a day; it’s a metaphor for moment-to-moment reality. Every moment, we stand at the edge of a new creative act, another brushstroke on the canvas of our lives. And while we’re the ones who are responsible for the next choice we make, there is something quite mysterious at work. I’m not willing my heart to beat – it just does. I’m not willing the next brushstroke into being – it just arises.

The divine emerges, pushes, yearns to be released onto the blank canvas before us. It is bigger than any one of us, and yet, we are intrinsically connected to it.

It takes courage to allow this energy, this eros, to move through us.

Will we find this courage today?

Will we find this courage now, in this moment?