Mine, For the Trying

I stared for a few moments at a Monet painting, shrugged my shoulders and walked away unimpressed. If his name had not been on it, if it had been hanging in a hole-in-the-wall gallery, I might have even dismissed it as amateur, a Monet wannabe.

Monet was undoubtedly a master artist. But does that mean everything he painted was a masterpiece? I don't think so. I've come to believe that even master artists paint with mediocre strokes now and then. I've come to believe that all great artists, writers, leaders have, at one (or many points) flopped and floundered.

And so I take that truth and turn it into freedom to allow mediocre strokes to slip into my life's art. Surely it is better to dip the brush in color and begin the painting-living (no matter how ugly the outcome) than to stare at a blank canvas, paralyzed by fear of failing at a masterpiece attempt?

So I must try, and not despair when I fall short, when I fail to inspire. I must try again. And again, until the failing becomes not nearly as scary as the not trying.

And maybe, when I stand back enough years, I'll see--what once looked up close like nothing but messy strokes and blurred colors--a vivid, inspiring masterpiece. Mine, for the trying.


What do you find scarier--the failing or the not trying?
Is there an area of your life that you've held back, left the canvas blank? What will it take for you to dip your brush in color and begin?

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