Have you ever felt the world push against you so hard that you considered stopping? Not quitting exactly. Just pausing, waiting until things felt safer, easier, clearer.

That’s how it felt when I was painting “Uri”, named after the relentless winter storm that struck Texas in 2021. I remember standing by my window in Argyle, watching snow pile higher than I ever thought possible in Texas. It was thick, relentless, quiet, but unyielding. The temperature dropped to zero degrees Fahrenheit, which, if you know Texas, is like nature shouting, “I’m serious this time.”

Yet there I was, paintbrush in hand and canvas stretched in front of me, deciding not to stop, not even to pause. Every color, every line represented my response to the storm: “You do your thing, and I’ll do mine.” Something magical happened: the harsher the storm, the bolder the colors became. The colder the air, the louder the patterns shouted back.

Looking at this painting now, living in Nampa, Idaho, I smile at my naivety in thinking I’d never see snow like that again. Life has a funny way of reminding us that we can’t control the weather, both outside and inside. But what we can control is our persistence, our willingness to move forward, brushstroke after brushstroke, despite the chaos surrounding us.

Persistence isn’t about stubbornness; it’s about grace under pressure. It’s about saying, “I might bend, but you won’t break me.” It’s recognizing that storms pass, snow melts, and spring always returns, sometimes even brighter than before, because now we know what we can handle.

“Uri” isn’t just paint on a canvas. It’s a conversation with adversity, captured in vibrant defiance. It serves as a reminder that we’re stronger than any storm we face.

It’s proof of the most extraordinary warmth: the fire you choose to keep burning within yourself, even when the world freezes around you.

-Nicholas Mokashi