I love overly dramatic and wordily painted quotes that act as silent mentors in our lives.  “Don’t burn your bridges” and ‘Can’t see the forest for the trees” offer up such drama, color and immediate imagery, that no living person can escape feeling them.  However, once felt, most people walk past, live their life and ignore the warning.

Yes, I have burned a couple bridges, none over the river Kwia, but the drama haunts my soul, and in my own “could have had a V-8 moment” – the televised metaphor of the forest and the trees, I have looked back and seen the obvious and hit my forehead.  That being said, I have moved forward, prayed that my transgressions and stupidity will be forgiven, not repeated and I will make it up as I live along.  I worry however, for those who never reach that moment and continue repeating emotional failure, especially those near to my heart.

Why do intelligent and loving people look across the once lush forest of their life, and unlike the Lorax don’t realize the trees are gone and all that is left are stumps?  What does it take to wake them up to the time that is left, to make a change and walk across a bridge of understanding, plant some new ideas and start a growing a lush journey?  Yes, it is one of life’s mysteries that just stumps me – especially, as we face this new year when everyone is entertaining resolutions with a toast, to avoid from becoming toast.

I suppose it boils down to human nature, and some of us are more frame than painting to the illustration of humanity.  Yes, it takes effort to be a frame, eternally steadfast to the imagination and quality of the canvas – but not all paintings need a frame to shine, some do very well stretched in their own right,  and we see more details, or “the whole picture” as they say. I laugh when I say that, thinking of many a guilty person who claims they have “been framed” – another example of seeing past the trees I guess.

              The best thing about a new year is how it appears mentally in our life, like a fresh canvas or a field of unmarked snow. I hope those in my life see this as I do, a time to make a mark in the right direction and illustrate a journey of beauty, shared and enjoyed with others.  What I fear however, it they will see the unmarked virgin field of snow, sigh at its beauty and walk away content.  They won’t be around for spring when the glittering snow is gone, and only stumps from once strong and beautiful trees appear and litter the landscape of dirt and rock – much like the life they have become a slave to.