Perspective—it can shift in an instant.
Speed painting is a fascinating art form. Whoever first imagined it must have had a brain worth studying. Seriously—who looks at a blank canvas and thinks, “I’m going to create something meaningful in under 90 seconds, upside down, and in front of an audience”? And yet… here I am, the person who attempts exactly that at every pageant I compete in.
As wild as it sounds, speed painting is more than just a test of skill—it's a demonstration of trust in the process. You’re racing the clock, unsure if the chaotic smears of paint will ever come together. And then, in one dramatic moment, you flip the canvas—and everything falls into place. What looked like a mess suddenly reveals a masterpiece. The collective gasp from the audience always tells me the same thing: the shift in perspective changes everything.
Art has a funny way of mirroring life. Just like a speed painting, life often feels confusing, unformed—like we’re trying to make sense of a chaotic mess with no clear image in sight. We search for clarity, desperate to connect the dots, and feel alone when we can't.
When I was 18, I worked as a lifeguard at a waterpark. On June 25, 2023, I performed CPR on a six-year-old boy who, despite every effort, tragically passed away. The days and nights that followed were heavy with grief and guilt. I kept searching for answers, for a reason, for some kind of picture that could explain the pain. People told me, “Everything happens for a reason.” But that phrase rang hollow. What reason could there be for tragic loss? How could anything good come from something so heartbreaking?
That experience taught me that grief is not something you overcome—it’s something you carry. And without a shift in perspective, it can weigh you down entirely. I couldn’t change the past. I couldn’t undo what happened. But I could flip the canvas.
So I did.
I began visiting classrooms, teaching children about water safety. I partnered with organizations and schools to educate communities. I used social media to amplify the message. I stopped seeing myself as a failure in that moment, and started seeing myself as someone with a purpose—someone who could help prevent another tragedy. I chose to honor that little boy’s memory by ensuring his story could save others. Slowly, the picture started to come together. What once looked like a series of disconnected brushstrokes began to form something bigger. Something meaningful.
Perspective matters. It’s not about erasing the past—like paint on a canvas, some marks are permanent. But it’s about choosing how you see it, and what you do with it. When life feels like an abstract mess of pain and confusion, maybe it’s not that the picture is broken—maybe you just haven’t turned the canvas around yet.
So the next time you're faced with something that seems senseless or impossible, consider this: all hope is not lost. Sometimes, all you need is a shift in perspective.
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