Let’s travel to the ends of the earth, if necessary, to comfort or even say goodbye to the people who matter–those who make up a life–in my case, the one who GAVE me life.
I haven’t been painting. Forever. In fact I’d wondered if I’d forgotten how or if I’d somehow just stopped being a painter. When I did last paint, I fell back on a formula that had worked for me before and, while I do like those paintings, they were “safe.”
This brings up the OTHER side of living our truths: making room for others to live theirs. It can mean letting go of how we want them to be. But if we love, we must allow our loved ones to be who they were born to be—even if that makes us uncomfortable…
But here is the thing about clearing, about paring down to what is essential in a life: you will need to make difficult choices. And these choices can put into motion things you couldn’t possibly have foreseen.
Painting isn’t just about stepping up to the easel. It’s about living a life that is filled with inspiration, about creating the space to ruminate and consider and to pursue what fills me.
… it was with some incredible hubris, if not utter disrespect, that I’d made these plans. I knew nothing about Truchas–its rich and complicated history, its heritage, its people, its simple AGE (the village was founded in 1754).
A birthing that necessitated pain, as all birth does, was taking place and I was in it. I was coming into ME. And my paintings reflected all of it–the growth, the pain and the confusion.