This Is Why I Paint
Published on September 27, 2015
I can’t remember the last time I sat down and wrote a blog post on a Sunday. You see, I have this silly voice in my head that thinks its important to stick to some type of decorum or predictability or schedule or right way of doing things.
And this voice is what some may call an inner critic.
But ever since I went to Sedona to lay my dreams to rest and bury so much of my bloated ambition and diluted pride into my paintings, I left there with this uncanny hunger for more mystery, more uncertainty, more living in the moment and interestingly it’s made me even more aware of my inner critic’s ridiculous way of dictating what is normal, correct, and safe.
But let’s all be honest here, shall we? There’s nothing safe about being alive.
Life is the epitome of fragile.
Though there’s this photographer I follow on Instagram who has been documenting the refugees that arrive in Greece from Syria. He not only takes their photos but he collects their stories as well. My heart can’t help but to wind itself tightly around the courage each of these human beings possesses simply to stay alive, to stay grounded on this Earth, to spend another day breathing the air that encapsulates us all.
Life may be fragile, yes — but our Souls certainly aren’t.
Believe it or not, this is why I paint. This is why I swim through my own doubts, insecurities, and tricky ways of looking at life. This is why I pour my heart into the work I’m blessed to do and want to honor it with what is best or what is needed or what my inner critic might think I should do.
I paint again and again to remind myself that life is what’s flowing through me. That my Soul is not attached to this energy — but rather a channel for it to flow through and this energy is older than the turmoil that strikes this planet daily. Much older than the ancestors whose blood circulates through my heart. Much older than the sunshine that landed outside my window this morning.
I paint to express my gratitude, my grief, my strength, and even my own blessed confusion that swirls in my mind frequently.
Because this is what it means to be alive.
And so today, I had to let this go. I had to share the final Sedona prayer that’s been sitting patiently on my laptop. Between the Full Moon, the eclipse, and the way my heart has moved at rapid speeds from this place I was in only a mere month or so ago — it’s time to let it go.
Ultimately this is why I paint…my constant ritual of letting go.
Thank you for being witness, for holding space as I allow a tender part of myself evolve. Now it’s time to tell a new story.
Psst…21 SECRETS Fall 2015 comes out tomorrow!
CLICK HERE to order yours if you haven’t already — it’s a good one!
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