She sits on a white plastic chair, arms slouched behind. The hem of her wrapper is loose, drawn wide, flappy from overuse. Her legs are raised defiantly, finding support on an adjacent white chair. They are not unusually devoid of hair.
She bangs the bowl on the table. “Are you certain, perfectly certain, that you’re alright?”
I shift a little in the seat. “Yes ma’am.” My fingers are laced on my lap, hidden from prying eyes.
“Very well.” She swallows. “You wouldn’t want to be on the other side of the wellness spectrum.”
A little shift. “No ma.”
She sits straight. “Very well again. You would like to explain what you’ve done this past year and how you intend to fend for yourself.”
But mum, I’ve been practicing painting on the computer, I think. I lock stares with her eyes, now crimson, then stare at the tiled floor, hoping it would pop out a logical, satisfactory answer to my mum.
Did you get the picture? She’s concerned he’s got no skill. His stifled response is that he can design on a computer, and he’s been interacting with designers in countries beyond his village. She doesn’t count it as craft. He insists everything is craft and the money doesn’t flow in one night.
Ever worn those shoes? Something you so much revel in is being stripped away from you because the probability of succeeding is so slim you can only whistle one word: Hopefully!
Hopefully, you’d get the right idea, develop in the right format, prevent to the right middleman who proposes to the right client(s). And you get the right payments.
Fact is, those odd happen once-in-a-million (as a mentor emphasized) and you’ve to be prepared to pay your dues. Does that mean you should stand and be stripped of what you enjoy? No. If it’s designing, please imagine. If it’s playing instruments, practice. If writing is what you delight in, hone your skill.
If you can do it for joy, you can do it forever (says a writing maestro.) Oppositions will arise, not that you are hated, but the ropes are too taut they fear you’d snap and crash and become a burden to them.
I won’t paint a virtual image of the garden rose. But if you’re sure you have peace (even if there’s no cash) and you are absolutely certain your talent isn’t wasting, keep at it. Do not in a plea to satisfy others butcher your dream for a work or job or skill or career that would earn more.
Wake the genius. It’s tasking. It is for me. But with the backing of our Father, who gives to each man talents, and expects that we sow what we’ve been blessed with, we would be established in it.
I believe this truth which is why I write. What about you? What do you enjoy? What’s your biggest peaceful dream? Why are you scared? Are you fearful of the word, hopefully?