Boodaism
Consider that life is like an art class.
This class has no beginning, no end and the kids come and go. When you arrive, the teacher hands you a blank canvas and says, you can create whatever you want, you can have all the materials you want, there are no grades, no expectations and no rules.
You look around the room in amazement.
One girl is furiously working, her tongue is half-way out of her mouth, and her canvas looks like she has spent hours and hours meticulously crafting a complex work of art.
Another boy is frustrated with his drawing, and is holding his head in his hands while tears run down his face, dripping onto the canvas.
In another corner two girls are giggling and splashing paint onto each other’s drawings. There are even two boys who have taken their canvas, broken it into pieces and are using the wood as swords to fight with each other.
To your surprise, the teacher watches all of this with delight.
You look at your desk and realize that whatever you do and however you decide to use your time will be totally up to you. You choose some colors and experiment with different materials.
After a few hours you notice that occasionally, silhouettes of adult figures appear at the door and the teacher will call out a student’s name.
Susie, it’s time to go home.
You watch as Susie walks to the front of the room with her canvas.
As she does for every student, the teacher slowly and meticulously looks over the student’s work, nodding her head and smiling in approval. She then kneels down, puts her arms around the student and quietly whispers —
Sweetheart, this is wonderful.
