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.
I set out walking. There is no other way of putting it. I walked and walked, taking in this new place I called home. It was a need, a sort of walking meditation, that soothed something deep inside me.
I was living in a pale blue world. Snow covered the ground and the shadows cast on its surface offered up just about every shade imaginable—the sunlit sky of day with its blue and white clouds… pale blue everywhere.
Apparent or not, these pieces were all born of the land. They illustrate a period of intense soul searching and growth that could only take place in the embrace of this place I had come to trust.