Nobody was supposed to see this painting. Nobody was supposed to discover its symbols. It had to stay in my private collection indefinitely.

It all started when, at the end of my world travels, I was at a crossroad in my life, and I traveled thousands of miles to one remote place to rest and paint.

But something unforeseen happened. During the move, our family was driving to our new country home with all of our belongings when, without any warning, the home was offered to someone else.

We had no time to spare. Driving from one town to the next, we looked for any available place to stay in the vicinity for at least a few seasons, but absolutely nothing was available.

After a week of intense search, we decided to turn around and leave the area. But just as we were leaving, one foreigner — a lawyer — recognized me from my films and offered his home to us.

The new locations spawned new ideas, and I got busy sketching. I was given a rare opportunity to hear life-changing stories from around the world, right in my own studio.

Yet even with all the inspiration surrounding me, for some reason, I couldn’t create anything. So I started searching for something else, but soon realized that what I was looking for, I could not even define.

The boy who inspired the painting

One week, I decided to study nothing else than children from different cultures. Unfortunately, each time I was about to sketch a face, a child would just run off to play.

Only one boy did not mind sitting for me.

Arjun, my next door neighbor.

Actually, he did not sit for me. He was busy doing what he loved the most — dreaming, creating, and exploring. Whenever I got a glimpse of him, he was always intensely focused in profound contemplation.

As I was studying him, I noticed something unusual. I could see his every emotion and every thought at the same time.

I really wanted to paint him, but I couldn’t, because I had to move again — this time, just a short distance away. I immediately became involved with different obligations that occupied all of my time.

One evening, I heard someone knock on my door. I could not believe my eyes. It was Arjun and his older brother. They had persuaded their parents to let them stay at my new studio and spend the whole summer with our family.

After Arjun’s summer vacation was over, I understood why I had to come to this faraway place. The boy’s spirit helped me define what I wanted to share for so long — the story that, at first glimpse, would appear simple and serene, but at a closer look would reveal time-released messages of our true essence and purpose.

And to do that, I had to condense not only all possible thoughts, feelings, and emotions on one and the same canvas, but also the landscapes and seasons. I had to compress cumulative experiences so I could dive deeper and deeper into the most complex depths of a human soul.

I kept on bringing different people and animals onto the fields to show the power and influence of the environment on our lives. As part of the rhythm of nature, the rising tide would sink the shore grasses again and again.

I spent months trying to depict the most delicate nuances of the mind and the most intricate mazes of the spirit.

A painting I could not share

My intention finally came to life, but my excitement was short-lived. Because of my misunderstanding of the boy’s culture and his family’s principles, I could not reveal this painting. It had to stay in my private collection.

I packed the original and tried to forget I had ever painted it.

A few months later, I decided to open the crate again. The more I looked at the story, the more I felt I just had to do something. There was only one possible way to show this painting — if I changed the face.

But when I was just about to paint over the eyes, I couldn’t hold on to my brush.

Every fiber in my body resisted touching the canvas.

I did not know what to do. The best I could think of was to put the original away and wait. Possibly many more years — maybe a lifetime. There was nothing else I could do. It was out of my hands.

Eight months passed.

The final detail

One morning, I woke up from a vivid dream. There, I had seen that even though my painting was finished, it was actually still incomplete. The story needed one last detail that would draw even more attention to the eyes, so I added a shawl.

As I was weaving the last cotton thread, I received a letter. A permission to show my painting.

The meaning of Dharma

Right then and there, I recognized the significance of such an unusually long delay for this artwork — because this is the story of dharma.

The awareness of our moral duty and responsibilities, and the harmony between the spiritual purpose and the freedom to live our dreams.

Dharma is not complete without the journey we take through it. And that journey cannot be rushed, shortened, or simplified.

It has to be experienced.

Akiane