Yes, everyone is a masterpiece. It will not appear that way to you since you are being created brick by brick, much like a house. You are the total of your pieces, not just the individual bricks. All you see are the flaws, however the master builder has flawless vision and sees what you are becoming. If you had such an everlasting vision, would you be concerned about the flaws, or would you celebrate, knowing that in the end the house will be a palace suitable for royalty? Because your vision is limited to the dreadfully imperfect earthly plane, you regard your flaws and weaknesses as something to hide. People can see your humanity, even if they don't see their own. They are well aware that they are just as flawed as everyone else, but they are busy concealing this from themselves and others.
It is all a giant game of inferiority resulting in superiority complexes. The greater the superiority complex, the stronger they look and sound, when they are as needy as you, if not needier. There is a world full of needy souls refusing to show that they need anyone, desperately pretending that they are superhuman. Every needy person feels smaller, less powerful, less capable, and less acceptable than everyone else. What a silly way to behave, feeling inferior when you are as deserving of love and forgiveness as everyone else. And, as I already stated, a masterpiece in the making.
What you do for a living will never improve your self-esteem. I was a well-known painter, but it just made me feel inferior to other Surrealists of the period, such as Picasso. Yes, he was my confidante and admirer, but I envied his work because he embodied Cubism, and Dali, of course, wrote the book on surrealistic art. These were the Spanish artists of my day, and I was meant to follow in their massive footsteps? In comparison, my paintings sang vulgar songs of my heartache and misery, but their work condensed a feeling, a notion, or a dream into magical shape and color. I believed that they were so much beyond my ability that it was preferable not to copy them, but rather to paint as only I could. I just had one thing to offer the world: my brokenness. And, to my delight, the rest of the world comprehended the language. It is a mistake to try to be someone other than yourself. It is who you were meant to be, whether the news enrages or excites you. And soon, this voyage will come to an end, and from this side of Heaven's door, it will seem like such a little time to have lived. If I could offer you one piece of advice, I would tell you to be grateful for everything that has happened (or been denied you) since it has shaped you into the unique person you are. What has formed and sculpted you, particularly the sorrow, has resulted in a person that you have grown to love, since we cannot help but love ourselves. Without the disaster that struck me down, I would not have had a motive to resuscitate myself and make such acclaimed work.
Look at individuals you admire, and you will see that their lives were not simple; success did not come easily to them. They worked their way to the top, and it is the effort that gives us wings. Isn't it true that the ugly caterpillar wrestles in its cocoon until it's ready to fly? As you writhe in the darkness, trapped as I was to your bed, tied to a shattered body, you will see no meaning in your suffering. You will turn your gentle face away from God, because He appears to be little more than a sadist. It will appear that you could perform far better than He. Will you remember what I said in these difficult times, that you are only seeing a small portion of your entire life, not the good that lies ahead? When you reach the bottom, you are on your journey back to the top. When your spirit hurts with loneliness and emptiness, someone is only around the corner and will arrive just on time. How do I know? Because I lived at the bottom for as long as anyone can and survived.
Did I perform well at enduring? At the moment, I would have told you, "I have given everything I can give; I cannot offer anything else." I was wrecked on the jagged rocks of love; I was a dinghy adrift in the wild sea, battered and broken to bits. On the beach, I lay in my wheelchair, wearing a body cast, unable to stand or even wash. But in the end, I had two arms and two hands that worked wonderfully, so I set them to work. I offered what little I had and recounted my sad story. To my astonishment, there were others throughout the world who had broken up on the shores of love and were stranded in emotional wheelchairs. So many people were sobbing inside, just like my paintings did. But did I live life correctly? Definitely not. I was a disaster. But I was proud of my appearance and refused to look amess. I was proud of my abilities and gave everything I had. However, I was a complete wreck on the inside. Frida Kahlo's beauty did not stem from her perfection. It was her elegance, her class, and her will not to give up.
You are a work in progress, so keep your head up, even if you are a mess inside, because you are still being built. As long as you have to be here, you might as well create something you can be proud of, giving something to the world despite the agony you are in. Make it beautiful, because the world needs more beauty. You don't have to be like others; being different is contagious. But always, always hold your head up high.
With love,
Frida
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