I don't mean in the Agatha Christie sense. Not that I dislike Agatha's famous writings, but the mysteries I love are those which are part of daily living; those inexplicable happenings that change our lives in ways we never thought possible. Obviously I'm referring to the positive mysteries of life. The negative mysteries are a whole different blog post.
Anyway, lot of people like to try and explain the inexplicable which, if you think about it makes absolutely no sense. But that doesn't stop them from trying. And I certainly can't say I'm not guilty of making attempts to make sense of things. By and large, though, I like to bask in the mystery of the unexpected.
Several years ago, when we first moved to Colorado, Steve, Charles (who was an infant), and I went to a quaint, little art gallery in Central City. It is located across the street from the Opera House, above what used to serve as the county jail.
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The uneven floors and exposed brick walls offered a certain charm that highlighted the art displayed throughout. We took our time admiring the works of various artists and Steve, somewhat offhandedly, said, "Someday I hope my paintings will be hanging in a gallery like this."
We left the gallery that day and eventually forgot about his statement. During the following years we had two more children and Steve focused on raising our family and building his career. His painting largely fell by the wayside as trying to paint with small children could be somewhat chaotic and painting alone meant time away from them.
Things took a turn, however, when the owner of a start-up company Steve was working for decided to turn it into a shut-down company. One day he had a job and the next day he didn't. It was a tough time. Finances were tight but our young family's needs were many. Steve dropped into a funk which turned into a full-blown depression. Some days were very dark. I took a job working at the public library and Steve started doing projects on contract. Friends were generous and caring and eventually our situation turned around.
As a part of coping with his depression, Steve started painting again. The contract work provided for the needs of our family but painting is what fed his soul and brought him out of his depression. Some days his paintings were dark and dreary, but more and more they became beautiful, evocative, and inspiring.
The library where I worked was a brand new, beautifully decorated building with space for a small art gallery. A call went out for local artists to begin displaying their work and Steve decided to submit his paintings for consideration. It was a bold move as he'd never shown his paintings to many people. But, he took a chance and put it out there and was invited to hang his paintings in the gallery.
That one step encouraged him to start entering juried art shows.
Not long afterward, he was notified that his painting had been chosen to hang in a gallery alongside the submissions of other Colorado artists. We were excited as we prepared to attend his first opening celebration. That evening, as we climbed the stairs to the gallery I realized that this was the place where he had expressed his hope that one day his artwork would hang in a gallery.
THIS was the quaint gallery with the uneven floors and exposed brick walls. His spoken desire, expressed years before but largely forgotten by us, had come full circle into reality. He wasn't showing his art in just any gallery. He was showing his art in the very gallery where he spoke his hope.
I can't explain why his spoken wish came true. I believe in the power of prayer. I believe in the power of speaking things into the universe. I believe in positive thinking. But I can't say I know exactly why things happened the way they did.
It is a mystery.
What I do know is the desire of Steve's heart was to have his artwork shown in a gallery and he bravely started putting his work out for others to see and judge. Literally. It takes courage to submit his paintings before an established artist who will determine if they were worthy of entering into a show. Steve paints from his soul, not his head. It is his very being he submits for judgment.
It is frightening.
No amount of prayer or positive thinking would have mattered if he had kept his work hidden at home. He is a humble artist and faced his first (and every future) submission with fear that the core of who he is would be rejected.
Since that first show, he has had paintings in several state and regional competitions. Why that spoken desire in a little gallery years ago came to reality is a mystery. How it came to be is an act of courage.
For the past several years Steve has dreamed of securing a spot in the Rocky Mountain National watermedia show. The competition is open to artists across the United States and hundreds of amazing artists submit paintings. Only a few are chosen. Last week he opened a letter saying, "Congratulations!"
In September a painting signed with his name will be hanging in his first National Show. A pretty big deal in the art world. So many years ago he stated his wish but if he had let fear rule and hadn't entered that first show in Gilpin County he'd still be dreaming of making it into a national show.
So yeah, I love a good mystery. But I admire courage.
Because if we let fear hold us back we undermine the magic of mystery.
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