My Mom gets worried when I post something personal on my blog. Don’t worry, Mom! I post business on Facebook and Instagram and Pinterest, I keep up my website with lessons and paintings. For the most part, I keep to business, but I do view my blog as a place to share the journey of painting and how life impacts that or how painting impacts my life. That’s a chicken before the egg thing for sure!
Without sharing the gritty details, I have gone through just about the hardest thing I can really imagine over the past few weeks. Of course that means something different for each of us in a way. Let’s just say, it was REALLY bad. Now, I’m not trying to garner sympathy or to be the victim emotionally. What I want to talk about is how I’m getting through it. What do you do when the shit really hits the fan? Do you fold and collapse into your own little separate space or do you turn from that to something better, greater, stronger?
I’ve chosen the latter, as to chose otherwise doesn’t seem too wise. I was thinking about the book by Eric Maisel and his list about what working means. Included on this list is “work through the catastrophic times.” You know that they are coming to you but somehow you believe that they will be someplace far off in the future. Well, the future is NOW. And the truth is there is only this NOW to live in.
So, I paint, I read, I try to be quiet when:
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you”….
I’m reaching out to those I trust most without being dependent or reactive. Just quiet. And I know that things change.
Just painting. It has always been a source of strength and solace for me. I could get all wrapped up in drama and my own reactivity, but I’ve chosen something I hope that is bigger and better than that. Having practiced working at painting
as a discipline over the years has shown it’s worth and wisdom! Knowing that all the painters over all of art history have done the same gives me comfort and strength. Having a place to go deep into the mystery of life that I know is way beyond myself is powerful. When I stand at my easel and paint, it’s bigger than I am. So excuse the personal tone of this post but maybe sharing this will also be a source of strength for you when your “Now” comes along.
Thank you Eric Maisel and Rudyard Kipling!