Transcending Ordinary Life

Connection.

Heart to heart. Human interaction that goes beyond the walls of well wishes and dives to the depths of the soul.

I went out exploring another part of town yesterday with Heather. We drove a bit north and came to an older, quieter area that had a small downtown with a few shops specializing in the gift oddity and fair trade, hand crafted scarves, journals, decorative items. We walked through the shops and tucked our hands deeper in the pockets of our coats to ward off the dipping temperature, and then we made our way to a small locally owned coffee shop that sputtered to life with people wrapped up in conversations across the room. Fresh coffee permeated through the air, and homemade pastries lined the display tables. A stage stood raised from the ground, home to local musicians who serenaded crowds each Friday and Saturday night.

Immediately my eyes drew to the opposite wall, where beautiful seascape portraits hung. The colors, the swirl of the sea and sky, how they danced and the brush strokes that softened the blues and grays so reminiscent of Lake Michigan, it all swept through my eyes and sunk into my soul, erupted me in calming ways that pulled my heart in longing for the tranquil scenes, and amazed me that the artist could capture such divine beauty that went beyond the ordinary cyan and gray and lines that gave life to the earth and sky. They quite captivated me, and I associated with the artist and the breathtaking delicacy he took to create the fluid thunderstorm over the field and rays of God's light burst through the sky from behind a breaking white cloud.

The tall, long haired barista with bright eyes and thick rimmed glasses called out my latte and broke me trance. I smiled and took my cup, making my way over to the plush, oversized chairs and sat next to Heather. I had a view of the entire café and as we talked, I took in the surroundings- the coffee stain on the carpet underneath the table next to us, the line of tin cans across the counter, boasting local blends in eclectic arrangement, the spotlights perched from the ceiling, glowing and giving a slight warmth and homey feel wherever it shed its light.



About five minutes later, a man walked in, leaned over to the barista and mentioned something in his ear before striding over to the wall and began removing those beautiful paintings that struck me so fervently moments before. I watched his gate walking across the room and out the door, watched him place the paintings in the bed of his truck, searched his face to see his story. Something about him resonated with me, and a desire to speak with him welled within.



 

I watched him collect his pieces and trek back and forth from his truck, inside still stirred, the mannerisms of his face, which seemed to take him to be in his 40s, and the pulse ruminating underneath his chest palpable to my spirit. I just wanted to let the man know how much his art affected me. So as he moved towards the door with a painting in either hand, I lifted myself from my seat and met him in the aisle just before the door. He looked at me, eyes curious and open.

"I just want to let you know your paintings are beautiful. You have a talent. This is my first time in here and I noticed those paintings as soon as I walked in and they just spoke to me. They are so beautiful, really."

KenCookArt.com

He pulled back, surprised, before registering my words and shifting his eyes to an electric blue/green. "Thank you. That means a lot. I just started out in January full time painting. I've been a musician but I'm trying this out. I keep hearing my dad's voice in the back of my mind saying, 'You'll never do anything with it, your painting is no good."

A hum buzzed through me at his words, at the doubt and constant comparison he must have carried with him for a long while. I shifted my feet and dug in, pushing past the polite to passionate. "Good for you! That can be scary, I'm a writer, I know how it is. But you need to do this and your work is amazing and it's a gift."

The last words echoed and resonated in the air between us. A gift.. He smiled, glowing, almost radiant. "I needed to hear that... yeah.."

As his eyes dug into mine, I promised him with the sincerity of my voice and bright light in my eyes that he indeed would amount to something with his work. "You have a gift," I repeated. "And your paintings are beautiful. Thank you so much for letting me see them. It is a gift," I paused, letting those words last. "A blessing."

It was a human to human, heart to heart interaction that resonated deep into the walls of my soul. His eyes were bright and clear and open, allowing me to sink beneath the surface and dive into the innerworkings of his heart.

This is what life is about. To take a step across the room, look into another's eyes and read the story in the lines of the iris. To give a little God to the heart of mankind, to encourage and speak on behalf of the Creator to His creation.

It was a beautiful moment to transcend the ordinary life that folds in the walls of a local coffee shop. To break down barriers and burst into the beautiful, to intertwine with another breathing being's life... this is what we were made for. And we don't get the privilege to experience this everyday; or, at least, we don't take the option to look for the beating hearts and pleading souls.

Encourage the very best to shine into this world. We are all searching for someone to see our skin and bones, see what stretches and suspends us. And, every once in a blue moon, someone comes and opens up our heart and releases all that burns within us into the vast star-veiled canvas of the universe.

KenCookArt.com