A few days ago, I witnessed a horrific car accident from a mere twenty feet’s distance. I watched a car spin out of control, flip in the air and come crashing down, taking the life of the young driver. Since then, it’s replayed like a film clip in my head and my heart has remained heavy. I can only imagine what his family is enduring...
I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason, particularly not in tragedies such as this. But I do believe that we can give meaning to turmoil. One man’s accident can lead us to drive more carefully and cherish our lives and loved ones more actively. And our selfish efforts to cope through writing or other art forms might one day touch another.
I suppose that artists' ability to empathize and hurt deeply for others is duel blessing and curse. If given the choice, I imagine that most of us wouldn't trade our heightened sensitivity for any level of numbness. Would you agree?
Words of others can also prove medicinal:
"The true artist's heart searches not for treasure at rainbow's end; But is instead content to play upon the colour there-in."
Karen Sapp
"The heart is an artist that paints over what profoundly disturbs it, leaving on the canvas a less dark, less sharp version of the truth."
— Dean Koontz
"No matter what sort of difficulties, how painful experience is, if we lose our hope, that's our real disaster."
— Dalai Lama XIV
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