Last updated on May 2, 2025
My dad is an artist. A great one.
For more than fifty years, I’ve watched him approach his work with quiet focus, deliberate movement, and a kind of reverence that made even the earliest moments of creation feel sacred. I remember watching him stand in front of a blank canvas and wondering: How does he know where to start? That first stroke always seemed like the most important—something decisive, even risky. Would it shape everything that followed?
As a child, the idea of a blank canvas felt intimidating. So much space. So many possibilities. And, if I’m honest, so many ways to mess it all up. But over time, and through years of simply watching him paint, I learned a truth that changed the way I think about not only art—but life.
A painting is not made in one moment. It’s made in layers.
Layer by layer, the image begins to emerge. Some layers are bold and intentional. Others are quiet, almost invisible. Some are there to correct what didn’t work. Others deepen what already feels right. A single brushstroke might disappear under a dozen more, but it still has a role in what the final piece becomes.
I think our lives are shaped in much the same way.
We are not defined by the first thing we do—or even the first several things. Life unfolds over time, through decisions both large and small, through progress and missteps, through clarity and confusion. Each season becomes a layer, contributing something to the larger picture, even if we can’t quite see how it all fits yet.
The early choices don’t have to be perfect. They don’t have to predict the outcome. The beauty of life, like art, is that it’s constantly evolving. And just like in painting, mistakes don’t have to be final. We can go back. We can cover what needs to be covered. We can shift the color, soften the edges, try again. In fact, the areas where things didn’t go according to plan often end up adding depth and character we couldn’t have created on purpose.
In the world of painting, artists call this “texture.” In life, we might call it wisdom.
There’s a kind of grace in recognizing that we are works in progress—not because we’re failing, but because that’s the nature of a living, breathing, meaningful life. It’s not static. It’s never finished. And that’s a good thing.
Sometimes we stand at the edge of a new beginning and hesitate. The blankness feels overwhelming. We worry that we’ll make the wrong move, that we’ll ruin something before we even begin. But beginnings are rarely tidy. That first step, whether it’s into a new job, a new relationship, a new way of healing or living, doesn’t have to be flawless. It just has to be real. You don’t have to know how it will all turn out. You just have to pick up the brush.
Other times, we find ourselves deep in the middle of things—past the first few layers, but not yet at a place where it all makes sense. Maybe life feels chaotic or uneven. Maybe you’ve covered parts you wish you hadn’t. Maybe you’ve forgotten what you were even trying to create. That’s okay too. The middle is supposed to be messy. It’s where the real shaping happens. It’s where we learn to adjust and adapt. It’s where we build resilience.
And then there are moments of clarity. Those final strokes—light touches that pull the image together, the quiet knowing of what the painting has become. In life, these are the moments when we step back and realize how far we’ve come. We see the growth. We feel the meaning. We notice the harmony that’s emerged, even if the process felt anything but harmonious at the time.
Every phase of life has its purpose. The early, uncertain strokes. The mistakes we paint over. The corrections we make. The parts we keep and the parts we hide. None of it is wasted. It all contributes to the depth, the beauty, the story of who we are becoming.
So whether you are standing in front of a blank canvas today, unsure of where to begin, or staring at one already filled with the complications of living, know this: there is still more to create. Your life is not finished. The picture is still forming.
It’s not about perfection. It’s about presence. One thoughtful layer at a time.
About the Author
Leslie Nance is a Holistic Cancer Coach, Certified Holistic Nutritionist, speaker, and author. She helps women heal with clarity, courage, and soul. Writing and teaching about mindset, wellness, and living a life that feels as good on the inside as it looks on the outside.
