Over the past few weeks I've begun to grasp what it is to be a creation. That is to say that I have come to understand my finite-ness in a very different way. Rather than being frustrated by my lack of output (strictly in an artistic sense), I've been learning to appreciate the fact that, regardless of what I create, I am part of a greater story. It's as if I'm one strand being woven through a greater work, and what I might be tempted to call a loose end will one day wind it's way to a fitting destination. And, because of that wondrous notion (that I am a mere character questioning my author) I can look back on the recently past years of my life and find some sort of peace with them.
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