Author, painter, whatever

Painting has shown me several things over the 18 months since I first picked up a brush. I’ve learned that I love the wetness, smoothness and sound of the painting process; that I really enjoy learning how to see differently, and to see more; that I have ‘stuff’ to say/paint that seems pretty strong and vibrant – and that that’s probably a reflection of what’s moving through me!
It’s become clear to me that when I am grounded and just ‘see what happens’ on the canvas, the process of painting is totally consuming: time flies; it feels great and it’s energizing; the outcome is usually a surprise and often something I like a lot. Even when I try to use a photo as a starting point and am working more ‘from my intellect’ with a kind of a plan, if I just let my brush move freely I do end up with a fairly close representation of what I was seeing in the photo or at least a ‘picture’ I am pleased with. The beginner that I am is still really amazed that I can actually do this and how much fun I’m having.
If a painting starts to ‘go wrong’ – usually by not meet my expectations, not ‘turning out’ - and I buckle down and really work at it, it generally goes really wrong from that point on, and my undertaking feels like slow-moving struggle; darnitall; oooof; why am I doing this to myself; and proof of my lack-of-talent. When/if I return to the canvas later, and pick up where I left off yet from a different place in me, the process is often easy and satisfying, with ‘good’ results. I’ve shown myself again and again that it’s a case of allowing whatever’s in me to flow and evolve, and if/when I do, something I like is the result –it might be actually lovely/beautiful, or ‘merely’ interesting, or crazy and whimsical, or just surprising (and possibly pretty ‘ugly’ by generally accepted standards).

In ‘reality’, when I let my body direct my choices and actions, I get what’s right for me at that moment. When I work ‘from my intellect’, it’s often a struggle. This has been very apparent to me recently; and my painting process is a fractal of this.

The exciting part is that in the middle of the night last night, an important-feeling insight popped for me:
My life is actually as SAFE a game as painting is. And it’ll be as much FUN and BIG as I allow it to be, just like painting has been recently. They’re not that different. It wasn't actually at thought, at least not at first; it was more a feeling - a great surge of YESness inside.

While I have reached a point that I’m clear that ‘it’s only a piece of paper/canvas – what’s to fear?’ and whatever I paint, it’s mine and I can paint over if it’s not working for me - I had never made the connection to my own sense of safety/abundance and willingness to give myself permission to dare to live more fully, and especially to dare to ‘be outrageous’.

It’s my life and it’s not so different from a canvas; I am choosing the size, colours, textures, tones and shapes as I go; the creative process just unfolds if I get out of it’s way. I’d often told myself ‘it’s my life, my story, and I’m writing it. And that, while also true, has left me with feelings in my body which I’ve associated with responsibility, urgency, necessity to perform (not waste this chance). All pretty loaded, heavy sensations in my body – and not conducive to spontaneity nor courageous leaping-into-unknowns. Maybe even childhood values of ‘don’t waste paper’ and ‘write clearly so others can read it’ and the inherent value of books, of literature, and a respect for words (watch what you say!) that I imbibed early on, have all been playing a part in this, out of my awareness. Who knows.

By changing ONE small piece of this puzzle/game/illusion – namely that I’m painting my painting (instead of writing my book), the issue (my life) has taken on a totally different feel: lighter, bigger, permitting more changes and surprises; basically allowing me to GO FOR MORE. Why? I think ‘reframing’ in NLP terms is what I’m actually doing, but who knows why being a painter is more empowering for me that being an author – and who cares. I feel MUCH lighter today as a result of this small twist in my metaphor/illusion/perception of life, and I like it. It seems to me now that the fears that have been limiting my ability to ‘fly’ (a.k.a. to live fully, to give myself permission to do a, b. AND c, to live randomly; and slightly more specifically either to write, paint, explore, kiss numerous frogs with abandon) could actually have been shifted – dare I say disappeared? All of them? And without protracted stuggle? What an outrageous thought! I feel pretty damn good today. Yippeeee – basically!
And stepping our of NOW (briefly) and looking ahead:
What a great way to go INTO an intensive week of “Decloaking”! . . . THIS is usually the space I’m in at the END of a Wel-Systems experience.

Lately

Lately, I’ve been painting, reading - with 3 books on the go , listening to Louise’s “Leadership” cds; in short: moving through my days with no plan (randomly) and with enthusiasm. Somehow, blogging has fallen by the wayside although occasionally I find myself, while walking outside (in the sometimes spring-like air) and especially when painting, in a sort of internal blogging mode. In a abstract way: I’m not forming sentences, but I’m thinking thoughts; it’s beyond just ‘having’ thoughts and the thought(s) is/are not yet really formed, gelled. It’s fun – seeing what pops up, from the past - sometimes a new angle, sometimes a repeat, sometimes a whim or fantasy for the future. And just letting these thoughts fly without pushing, guiding or limiting them. Some fizzle out as fast as they came, others begin to feel more like an exploration, or a sparkle with a bit of staying power.

The rest of the time when I’m painting, I’m pretty much ‘just’ painting - pushing and pulling colours across the paper, mixing colours and seeing what happens; and constantly surprising myself with what emerges. Time flies. I’m starting not to feel naughty or self-indulgent or silly. (That old familiar voice is less frequently audible, but I still know what she used to say: I’m not An Artist hence and what am I doing pretending I can paint? Do something useful!). And I’m actually allowing myself to be quite pleased with some of the results, and recognizing my own sense of pleasure and surprise with the results, and I’m aware that I’m enjoying the feeling in my body as I’m standing in front of the easel, brush in hand. Maybe that’s why I’m doing it – to get a bit more in tune with me and my feelings? If so, it’s working! Or is it a way for me to learn to just me in the moment, focusing on putting one mark on the canvas at a time? That’s working too.
Despite my musing about it here, I like that I don’t even have to know ‘why’ I doing it.

For the upcoming term at the School of Art, I’ve signed up for another session of ‘Acrylics for Beginners’ classes – that was a really easy decision. More daring was enrolling in “Dare to Sculpt”. It’s been an idea forming for a while, and then, in March at an exhibit of Henry Moore works in London I actually said out loud: I’d like to learn how to sculpt, to mold things with my hands, to see what happens. So I enrolled. In spite of my aghast, often-instantly-there don’t-do-it voice: screeching: Hubris! TWO art classes, who do I think I am? And sculpting? for gods sake, I’m NOT Henry Moore. Have pity on the instructor! But something else inside was prompting me loudly and clearly: YES, BE crazy. So I’m going to give it a whirl! Watch me twirl! And yes, probably I should have pity on the instructor who’ll have to deal with someone (ME) who has no idea how to begin to think/create in 3D. I suppose so . . . EXCEPT . . . because this is a holographic universe, and I’m being drawn to this, full of curiosity and the tingle of Yippeee - Adventure Ahead! ‘having pity’ is not the way I’m thinking any more. Now it’s . . . Choose me, eh!
So Ms Sculpting Instructor will have me aboard for nine Mondays; and she’s really welcome on my holodeck too.
And my old voice is groaning at the thought. Too bad for her, now; she’s been zipped.

MY VACUUM

It’s not that I need to do the vacuuming around here; it’s that I feel like I’m in A Vacuum, and it’s dense and heavy, warm and safe – yet physically uncomfortable. The rain on the roof sounds steady, determined and comforting, and the aimlessness of my day is unsettling. I have lots TO DO, and absolutely no inclination to get any of IT done nor to start anything new. Those ‘to do’s’ are products of my intellect – some of them I even actually truly want to do. And I know that my ‘uncomfortablness’ is heavily influenced by my OLD belief that being busy is ’good’ and getting stuff done is useful – (combined with the knowledge of the fact that I will have to complete these tasks at one point and/but postponing them for a while isn’t going to change much). And my body is saying NO to all of them; I’m not bored, not tired, not depressed; I’m restless, unsettled, unfocussed and sort of floating – with lots of body responses traveling gently but nonetheless noticeably through me.
I ‘know’ this is all ok and that I don’t need to fix myself, don’t need to ‘snap out of it’ (as I’ve be taught to do); and I’m trusting that just letting it happen and staying with it is what I need to do if I’m going to get to know myself better and move closer to living MY life. It’s just that right now, it feels . . . . well, like I’m in limbo/a vacuum, and although I have ‘been here’ before, I’ve never actually liked this state and I used to usually try to suppress/override/ignore it – back then, I didn’t know the afloat-and-drifting sensation is really a form of information about myself, I’d always ‘believed’ that this vaccum-space was a mood and nothing worth paying attention to.

I’m getting an ‘EASE UP, be gentle, dammit’ message as I write. And a ‘wallow merrily in the vaccum and see what happens’ whisper is filling my space. Luxuriating has always been fraught with ‘don’t’ connections in the past; allowing myself to enjoy the vastness of the vacuum is an intellectual oxymoron for me right, and I know I’m going to try it anyway, this afternoon, and see how my body likes it – to hell with what my culturally conditioned self might murmur.

Sarah’s recent phrase leaps to mind: " i am ready for more...... i am aware being for me...is simply energy moving in and out of me and from others to others." The sentence has stuck with me since I read it because it resonated so strongly with how I’ve been living/feeling recently – certainly since the EF:EW experience a month ago when the penny really dropped – kerplunk – and I realized that I fully stand in the New Paradigm. And this last month, it’s been a bit of a rollercoaster as others who live in the ‘old paradigm’ triggered habitual responses from me which no longer felt/were authentic, and that prompted me to wake up again and to choose/speak from my newly recognized space.

Today, it’s as if my body, especially the area around my 6th and 7th chakras, is giving me invitations to really assimilate more layers of this awareness, and to get in tune with this more deeply, more completely; maybe my actual cells are still reconfiguring themselves. It’s as if I’m creating a vacuum around myself to protect me from bumping up against something today – as if I’m in fact helping myself, supporting myself until I’m ready to move, choose, put one foot down in front of the other again. Sounds gentle to me . . . I’ll accept it gratefully – and see it as wonderful and wise, not uncomfortable and disorienting.
I can already feel that my feet are almost ready to touch ground again – I feel quite different from the Chagall-like floating figure I was when I started writing this.