Discernment

One day I decided I wanted to be a monk. I was in grade 5, you see, and we had just watched a sex ed movie entitled "And Then One Year". I was horrified at the prospect of actually having to acknowledge my body - its fears and foibles; thought my life would be better spent listening to Gregorian chant and practicing the calligraphy I was so fond of. Of course, one can't just go and be a monk right way. You have to take the time to think about it and decide if that sort of life is really for you. I believe the word is discernment.

Well, I have long since overcome my desire to take the habit, but I still value the process of taking time to decide what sort of life you want. But there is something to be said for just jumping into something and letting things sort themselves out, after you have taken the plunge. It does not matter how slowly you go, as long as you do not stop, said Confucius, who was a monk of sorts.

But then there is the fact that your life continues (whether you like it or not) regardless of what you do. You take a breath and then another and these add up to something. Perhaps foolish to expect more than equation of breath + breath = life. Perhaps it is good to know we are essentially all doing the same thing, and that it is enough.

But there is still the desire to take the plunge and try new things, which is how things should be, and the purpose of all discernment - to lead you to the point where you can move forward.
And so I have found myself in my brother's apartment, faced with the prospect of painting the walls a new colour, something I myself have never done. It can't be that hard, can it? If I make a mistake, I can always start again with a new colour, one more to my liking. This is good.

Yesterday I started lining all the window frames with green painter's tape, just to make sure I wouldn't go outside the lines. But then I discovered I am actually quite good at touching borders and going up on ladders to tackle the tricky, out of the way places. In fact, I thrive on it.
I decided to throw out the painter's tape and paint with a slow, steady hand - a clear eye and unlimited forgiveness for all the times I knew I would stray.

And I did better than I ever thought I could.

The walls are a light purple colour - one I quite like. Tomorrow I may change my mind, but paint is cheap, and I am a very good painter.