There is a Hand that is Steady and Sure, and behind the Hand there is a Mind that has an idea for the Perfect Masterpiece
There are many brushes for the Mind to choose from, many exceedingly beautiful, with exquisitely chiseled handles, and perfectly aligned bristles, but oddly enough the Mind chooses the ugliest brush, with a handle of balsa wood, and a head of bristles that point in every which direction. The Hand then takes the ugly Brush and promptly, yet gently, dips it into the paint, and begins the Work.
The Brush at first strains against the Hand, its bristles attempting to run entirely contrary to the direction of the Strokes, but the Hand is Steady and Sure, and continues with the Strokes. The Brush wonders at this, for the Strokes are against its nature, but it will soon realize that its bristles are even then being reshaped by the Hand, to achieve the Mind’s Purpose.
It is with much patience that the Hand makes the Strokes. Often times the bristles do not conform easily, but the Mind is indeed patient, and pays especially minute attention to detail, using each and every bristle for every stroke. To the Brush, the strokes seem unordered, more chaotic than anything. Then water is spilled onto the Painting, blurring the previous work, and the brush moans that all is lost. Then the Piece gets scratched, disrupting the continuity of the Painting, and the Brush despairs at the time spent on that very continuity. But still the Hand keeps making Strokes with the Brush. And still the Brush is made more beautiful and straight, bristle by bristle, Stroke by Stroke. Every so often the Brush is lifted from one spot of the Painting to another, to be used as the Mind sees fit. And every so often the Brush is re-dipped into different colors of paint that the Mind uses for the different parts of His Masterpiece. At these times the Brush notices that the Strokes do seem to be coming together, yet still the Final Product is veiled.
So it continues: the Brush is swept back and forth, dipped and re-dipped in a variety of paints, all the while the bristles are coming in line with the Purpose of the Mind.
Finally, the strokes cease, the Brush stops, the Hand lifts the Brush into the air, and then the Brush sees the Masterpiece. And suddenly the Brush realizes why the Hand allowed, and orchestrated, the scratches, spills, and wild bristles. It was all a part of the Masterpiece, all coming together to show beautifully the Purpose of the Piece, and all coming together to wonderfully express the Mind behind the Purpose.
And the Brush is filled with gratitude because the Mind would choose the Brush, and the Hand would use it for such a glorious Purpose. Then the Hand places the Brush back into a case, but not into the old case, now it is in the Master’s Case, filled with beautiful, sculpted, perfect Brushes, all having been used by the Master, all made perfect by the Mind in their own corresponding Masterpiece. And suddenly, the Brush understands.
