funeral

I’ve been doing a lot of painting outside lately. It started with the funeral I planned in Sedona and followed shortly after with a solo retreat I took in Prescott as well. Painting for me is always an exploration of my inner landscape — most especially when I’m surrounded by all that is wild and true. But this you see, is nothing new.  As a kid I’d sprawl across the grass and draw the clouds that drifted by and the big willow tree that swayed lazily in our neighbor’s yard.  In high school I was notorious for cutting school to…

A few weeks ago I went to Sedona for the funeral I was planning.  I gathered my family, mindfully chose the art supplies I needed, and even lovingly packed a picnic. But I didn’t tell them that this is what I was doing.  I didn’t blast it on Facebook or Instagram either.  Didn’t text anyone the big news. I just went and did my thing.  I kept it all a secret — even while they sat joyfully next to me. A woman’s heart is like that.  It doesn’t need approval or validation.  It doesn’t need to double check that she’s…

I went to Sedona to lay things to rest. To pay respect to the dreams I was letting go of. To mourn the death of an identity, a way of thinking, and a heaviness I’ve been carrying around for so long that it finally became good company. I went to Sedona for shiva among the old oak trees, ancient red rocks, and the shamelessly wild creek. I went to Sedona for a funeral, I went there to paint. I wasn’t interested in capturing what was in front of me or to listen as my muse gave orders. I just wanted…