An artist I spoke with at a fly fishing show once told me, that a sketch holds more character because it is never an exact representation of the scene it represents. It’s a little bit of the artist, and a little bit of imperfection, pulled together to give one person's impression of the scene intended. At first glance, for some it will look like perfection, and for another the flaws will jump out at them. Sometimes it just works. Either through pure talent, or the ability of the artist to pull one's attention from the flaws by drawing a viewer's attention to the part that represents the best. And other times a work of astonishing ability falls flat.
Enter life. Life is never quite perfect. And it’s levels of happiness and beauty, accompanied by sadness and loss are a mountain in themselves. Yet , so much of those levels are determined by our perception. Life is a sketch in itself. The most inspiring people in my life have been those who were able to stand streamside and notice the beauty of a great blue heron despite the illness brought on by chemotherapy, revel in the beauty off a spawning brown despite near crippling arthritis or appreciate the favorite joys felt by a lost loved one beyond dwelling on the personal pain of loss. Those who have the uncanny ability and strength to see the beauty despite the imperfections. Life is a living fresco upon the ceilings of our mind, and a huge palate is spread out before us. The lines and colors you choose to grow that fresco defines the beauty, or lack of, in which you experience along the way.