Inching Ever Closer

When I started drawing this elephant, I had five white hairs on my head. I can now count nine. I have also earned a gaggle of wrinkles around my eyes from squinting while drawing the tens of thousands of tiny shapes that make up the texture of the skin. I have visibly aged while working on this one drawing. But white hairs and deep wrinkles I warmly embrace. Within the wrinkles of a face, lie the stories of each passing year. With time, each face develops its own unique character. This is the character of you. Worn by the wind, colored by the sun, shaped by decades of laughter and smiles, and sadness and pain. What a beautiful thing to age. With each day, we become more and more unique. And the more we explore, the more risks we take, the more we expose ourselves to the elements of life, the more exceptionally unique we become. The breadth and depth of our character expands exceedingly the further we venture from the crowds of conformity, like trees that grow at the extremes. If you have ever seen a bristlecone pine, you know what I mean. If I were a tree, I would want to be a bristlecone. Their beauty is not defined by height or girth or symmetry. Not everyone admires this type of tree. To one beholder, a bristlecone may appear peculiar, to another just downright ugly, yet for every bristlecone there is someone somewhere who will stand transfixed in wonder as their eyes take in the most glorious tree they have ever seen. They are not loved for being normal, but for being entirely unique. A bristlecone is loved for all its quirks. And isn’t that what we seek most in love, to find that one person who adores us for all our idiosyncrasies? So, there are some perks to growing old and gray. To all of you out there, I hope that you are accumulating the wrinkles of your dreams.

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