I don’t know if I was part of this
conversation, or if I overheard it. I do remember being surprised to learn from
my Dad that my uncle had a talent for drawing.
I love it, too, and having never seen any of his work I was intrigued. Dad’s
unanswered question from I don’t know how long ago remains lodged
in my mind today: Why, he wondered, did
his brother not develop this wonderful gift?
There are a million reasons why we don’t give our
gifts the attention they deserve. Maybe no one recognized them when we were
young and showed us how to cultivate them?
Maybe we tried, and feeling unworthy, gave up? Maybe we don’t even know
what gifts we have? Maybe they’ve been
shelved indefinitely for that phase of life when we feel like we finally have
the time?
Listening to our CEO field questions on a recent global call,
he seemed somewhat mystified as to how to answer a query posed by one of my
colleagues. She wanted to know what he views
to be the silver lining of this pandemic. I’m speculating
he was a little taken aback since so much of what has transpired is talked
about in terms of fear, loss and uncertainty. Our lives and livelihoods have
been turned upside down. The outlook is bleak, the perpetually foggy crystal
ball has churned to pea soup. Time has become magnified. More than once I’ve heard
it said we’re passing time in dog years, the days are long, yet
something that happened yesterday feels like weeks ago.
The question posed to our CEO is far more relevant, and memorable,
than his answer.
For me sheltering in place has presented an opportunity to
take stock in who and what really matters to me. While I thoroughly enjoyed spending the first
few weeks at home binge-watching 30 + hours of The Crown, and sincerely mourned
the loss of this nightly ritual when we finished our last episode, I am
thinking less about being in captivity, killing time until my release, and more
about being in a cocoon, harnessing time until the beautiful butterfly emerges,
transformed.
If I had to guess why my uncle didn’t maintain
a drawing practice, I would chalk it up to his very full life. A prolific
researcher and writer, bestowed with many gifts, I can easily see how drawing
could fall by the wayside. The blessing,
truly, in this moment is the gift of time to resuscitate those activities and
relationships that bring us joy, those hobbies that feel like decadence, like the
most special of desserts, only to be savored once we eat the vegetables of life.
Which takes me back to Dad’s question
and drawing. I’ve heeded
his words, ditching the television for twelve weeks of virtual sketching classes
and spending what I would have deemed crazy amounts of time not too long ago
just drawing. And I wonder what could
possibly have taken priority over making a practice of drawing?
I watch my dad during this pandemic. His age puts him in the
high-risk category, and yet he’s living his life to the fullest.
Sure, he takes precautions, but what I see is a man who has taken stock in who
and what really matters to him, and he won’t be
deterred. He cherishes the family gatherings, and does not let fear,
uncertainty nor a pea soup crystal ball keep him from spending time with those
he loves.
Dad knows the silver lining that most of us haven’t lived
long enough to really understand: We’re all
here for an indeterminate, yet finite period of time, and it accelerates like
dog years. It’s a privilege to be one of the lucky ones he
spends his precious time with.
