The Art in Me

Today I was listening an old Jars of Clay song from the 90s, "Art in Me". It was a good day to hear that song. I was feeling pretty low today after some harsh run-ins with people (once with a teacher because I was ten minutes late picking up my daughter from school, and a couple times on the road) and I didn't feel anywhere close to the beautiful masterpiece I have been taught to believe I am.

The song speaks to the beautiful mess we all are, the hidden art that we usually don't see. I was struck by this today. When I mess up, I feel messy on the inside and out. And the opposite is also true--when I have a day of minor successes, I feel pretty well put-together in my appearance (regardless of whether I actually am or not, sometimes to my embarrassment). The way I view my behavior, accomplishments and failures actually distorts the image of my physical self that I carry in front of my eyes as I live and move.

Again, as I have written many times before, this all hinges on my own perception of myself. I suppose if I were to imagine myself as a work of art, I would be the type of critic who thinks impressionism is the only true art form, and all else is lacking. Or realism, cubism, or whatever that "ideal" form may be. I obviously have some standard in mind when I judge my own actions, thoughts and appearance.

When I look outward, I am very accepting of all forms of art and beauty. Well, most. Why can't I apply that same generosity and openness to my own reflection? I keep coming back to this question. Why can I show grace to others but not myself? How can I be so affirming of the beauty in others and so harshly critical toward what I myself have to offer?

I may never figure this out. But maybe, instead of looking at the whole picture, I can start by appreciating certain strokes of the brush, a particular combination of colors, or the movement of any given line. I can look at my life in pieces and find beauty in moments, conversations, decisions, responses, prayers, tears, and on and on...until eventually I come to see how they all come together in, yes, a masterpiece. An original, unique yet on par with every other master work in the gallery.