Dancing with Paint

I think I want to get back to painting again.

"Well... just do it."

It should be that easy, right? I mean, I have paint and I have brushes. So what's the hold up?

UPDATE: See the finished paintings here.

I have these four orange canvases that have been haunting me ever since I started them last April. I can see the finished product in my mind, but I have just been so neglectful of them. Painting never used to be this arduous for me. I used to paint a lot. I used to write a lot, too. But then my heart was broken so badly that I almost thought I would never recover. A long bout of depression kept me from doing a lot of things in my mid-twenties. I had given up simple pleasures like painting and writing because I felt there was nothing left inside of me to share or to celebrate. But slowly, over time, I recovered. My heart healed, and I began to revive all those bits of me that had seemed so lost.


I was the same and, yet, I was different - ever changed from that experience. For those who are close to me, they know me as that happy-go-lucky gal who sometimes has a bite to her. They know that bite wasn't always there. The scarring from being cast away so and the strength to overcome it was what put it there. What seemed like misfortune at the time was actually the universe pointing me in a different direction and a different destiny. And though its been quite some time since those days of self pity and self loathing, I am ready to find myself again through that intimate dance between brush and paint. Too long have I allowed the shadow of that memory to suppress the joy I once had. I am ready to dance again.

I think this weekend would be as good a time as any to finally put soul into those canvases. With a quiet house, some hot tea, and a selection of dewy tunes playing in the background, I should be in business.

"Every adversity, every failure, and every heartache carries with it
the seed of an equivalent or a greater benefit."
- Napoleon Hill