She could do anything.

I heard a tale just the other day and at the time I thought not much more about it. This morning as I walked along the side of the water on the rocky path I had an overwhelming sense of wonder and a strong feeling of happiness.

I was out walking, I was enjoying the difficulties of the path. I had in the past few days shared some lovely moments with friends who had teased me about not being happy to be an artist so you just taking up writing books. It was friendly banter. But as I walked this morning I became very aware of how fortunate I have been in my life. I have written and played music, painted, taught and so many things. Sadly on too many occasions, I have taken it all for granted.

So the story I heard I share and leave with you.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who could do anything in the world she wanted.  All she had to do was choose something and focus.  So, one day she sat down in front of a blank canvas and began to paint.  Every stroke was more perfect than the next, slowly and gracefully converging to build a flawless masterpiece.  And when she eventually finished painting, she stared proudly at her work and smiled.

It was obvious to the clouds and the stars, who were always watching over her, that she had a gift.  She was an artist.  And she knew it too.  She felt it in every fibre of her being.  But a few moments after she finished painting, she got anxious and quickly stood up.  Because she realized that while she had the ability to do anything in the world she wanted to do, she was simply spending her time moving paint around on a piece of canvas.

She felt like there was so much more in the world to see and do—so many options.  And if she ultimately decided to do something else with her life, then all the time she spent painting would be a waste.  So she glanced at her masterpiece one last time and walked out the door into the moonlight.  And as she walked, she thought, and then she walked some more.

While she was walking, she didn’t notice the clouds and the stars in the sky who were trying to signal her, because she was preoccupied with an important decision she had to make.  She had to choose one thing to do out of all the possibilities in the world.  Should she practice medicine?  Or design buildings?  Or teach children?  She was utterly stumped.

Twenty-five years later, the girl began to cry.  Because she realized she had been walking for so long, and that over the years she had become so enamoured by everything that she could do—the endless array of possibilities—that she hadn’t done anything meaningful at all.  And she learned, at last, that life isn’t about the possibility—anything is possible.  Life is about making a decision—deciding to do something that moves you.

So the girl, who was no longer a girl, purchased some canvas and paint from a local craft store, drove to a nearby park, and began to paint.  One stroke gracefully led into the next just as it had so many moons ago.  And as she smiled, she continued painting through the day and into the night.  Because she had finally made a decision.  And there was still some time left to revel in the magic that life is all about.

Strangely enough, the latest chapter of my next book is about grasping the day and not to let life pass by as you allow time to pass you by.

Have a marvellous day and grasp it with both hands.