One third of the people

I've heard that one third of the people are going to love you no matter what you do.
One third of them are going to dislike you no matter what you do,
And one third of them aren't going to care one way or the other...no matter what you do.
 
  It leads me to believe that it's best for us to be ourselves. Trying to please isn't going to change the statistics..."no matter what you do."

  I've come to believe this to be true of art too. People like what they like. I think people are simply built for different likes, dislikes and apathy. I, for instance do not like sweet potatoes. No matter what you do to them, I'm not going to like them. It isn't personal, even if I were someone to whine at a sweet potatoe for not acting or tasting like I think it should, and even if I were to try to make the poor spud feel guilty about it. It's still going to be a sweet potatoe, and I still won't like it. I simply can't, because I'm in that one third (I'm not sure of the numbers in sweet potatoes) who is not going to like sweet potatoes.
   Rice cakes. I don't really care one way or the other. They're ok, but I don't have it in me to love or dislike them. In my world they simply exist, because I'm in that (theoretical) one third that doesn't have any passionate feeling about rice cakes.
   Strawberries, I love! I love them fresh, frozen even canned. I love them in pies, jam, dipped in cream, or plucked from the patch! I don't think I've met the strawberry I wasn't smitten with, and there is not a thing strawberries can do about that. I'm in the (imaginary) one third that loves strawberries with every fiber of my being. It's just the way I am, and has no bearing on strawberries whatsoever.
  All of this to say, it doesn't pay much to worry about who doesn't like you or doesn't notice. Chances are it's nothing to do with you and more about that person's hardwiring. I think time is best spent with those who like, love and care about us.
    I spent too much of my time thinking about those who didn't like me as a kid, and I neglected those who tried in every way possible to show me how much they cared. Those who loved me anyway were my precious one third who was going to love me no matter what I did. These are the ones I think of and devote my time to now. I am their strawberries, and they are mine.
   Those who are perpetually disappointed in you have their own things to deal with. Let them go with your loving blessing. Those who don't care one way or the other, keep your arms open that they may come or go, and those who love you no matter what, give of your time, thoughts and care. Let them know you appreciate them. If your busy with all of that love, you won't have time for worry about people that you don't really matter to. Surround yourself with love, and give it freely. Be strawberries! hehe.

Closeup Painted Chair Seat
Acrylic on Wood
Approx. 8x10"



If I Could

If I could, I'd tell you that all is well. There is no need for worry about cobwebs. It's ok if the spoons aren't stacked just so, and it's alright if you don't do the dishes. It's ok if you want to cry, and it's so beautiful when you dance. If I could I'd take away any self doubt you had, and show you not only that you're loved. I'd show you, you're love itself. I'd let you know that you're never alone, that alone is an impossibility. I'd show you that we're all one, and how very precious you are to all. I'd show you the best of your heart, and give you the beauty I see in you. I'd make the strands of light and love that connect us all glow for you. I'd show you a common purpose that is so simple. Love and be loved, and simply be Love. I'd take away the "if only," and "Yes, but," and I'd replace them with peace. I'd give you the stars that are already yours, I'd lay the ocean in your hands and show you your bothers, I'd give you mountain ranges and show you your mother, I'd point at the birds and show you that you fly.  I'd show the sun and show you how you outshine it. I'd give you music, your music, your song, and I'd let you hear it in the heart of God.
  But I have only this paintbrush, and eyes that don't always see. I get so involved in the illusion of what's real, and at times bills or a stray stroke of paint define my existence. Hangnails bode the end of time, and politics in my mind can all but steal my hope....when I forget that these tools are not my God. When I fight of my will against material ideas, I forget I am more than made of material. The physical me is no more me than the reflection I see in a mirror. I forget that like you, I am the stuff of stars.  Since we are one, though perhaps you'll see you, if I show you me. I who stumble, and forget I am Love, remember with me.
tina

"Tribute to My Fellow Angels"
8x10
Oil on Canvas