My day has multiple pots, bearing multiple colours, my work a couple of colours, my family and friends. I have to leave a pot for just me, for time to let my brain relax and then another pot or two for keeping my home in some sort of semblance. And sometimes I have to steal a little from one or another pot, to fulfill an obligation or promise which I can't keep with a single pot alone. Sometimes I don't call my cousin back the day she calls me. Sometimes I don't answer an email from a dear friend as promptly as I'd like. Sometimes I have to cut short my calls with my love. Sometimes a piece of work finds itself being carried over from one day to another, or one week to another. Sometimes when I just begin to hum my favourite songs, my pots instead go rhythm-less.
As I get into each one of my days, they start looking like a chaotic smear of colour on colour, seemingly without blueprint or plan. This is no paint-by-numbers approach, no keeping within the lines. My paintpots fall into a state of disarray and my brushes grow heavy and clogged with colours from different pots.
But, at the end of the day I get ready for tomorrow. My brushes are purged of all residue, my pots organized and replenished. My mind prepares for another blank canvas and another day. As I look back at my day's canvas, there is organisation even in what appears to be colourful chaos. Or perhaps it's just an ability to interpret the patterns and form, one colour at a time.
After all, each day is, in its own way, a unique masterpiece of my life!
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