So I ran into Frank who was standing under a street lamp frantically looking for something.
“Did you lose something, Frank?”
“Something? Not just ‘something.’ I lost a gold coin my great grandma left me,” said Frank. “I heard it drop.”
“Where exactly did you hear it drop?” I asked.
“Way back a couple of blocks on Miner’s Lane,” said Frank.
I was puzzled. “So why aren’t you looking over there?” I asked.
“Because the light is better over here,” Frank answered.
It’s an old story, and it got me thinking how we look not where the treasure is, but where the light is.
For writers and artists the real treasure is the gift of creating something new, looking at what you’ve made, and seeing that it is good. For one brief moment you get a hint of a whiff of the way we are made in our creator’s image.
The light may be worldly recognition. Not knocking it, but not confusing it with the real treasure either.