Thursday, June 12, 2008
I Don't Know How I Feel
I often don't know what I think about an issue until I write about it. This may be why I write so much, I am just used to going on and on as I uncover my own thoughts. I have over sixty full journals where I have self reflected and worked out issues and outlined my true desires. Writing is a great tool, and a vital one for me, to help the thought processes.
But something just occurred to me yesterday... I may write to learn about what I think, but I often do not know how I FEEL until I paint.
This is an interesting discovery. I have been both writing and drawing as long as I can remember. They feel like normal outlets of my brain. Over the last few years, years that not coincidentally coincided with pregnancies and raising infants, those parts of myself have silenced quite a bit.
No wonder I have had a hard time moving, not just through the day, but through my life. Because it's like I have had blinders on. How do I feel about all of this???
I don't know! I haven't been painting!!!
I suppose poetry could also serve the same purpose, since it is kind of like painting with words, but I haven't been writing poetry, either.
I tell you, it's about time for a Renaissance, even if it seems as if I only have time for fifteen minutes of creativity at a time. Even if the kids are pulling at my ankles and there is, in fact, a little baby trying to get up on my lap as I type. Is making dinner and doing laundry and sweeping the floor (again!) really an excuse for half living?
I don't know how I will achieve this rebirth, because all of my old techniques to pull myself up by my bootstraps entail vast amounts of time to myself, a journal, art supplies, lots of coffee, a bit of wine and a seat at some cafe with a moody view out the window of a bustling city street.
How will I manage it now? My tools at hand consist of a toddler and a preschooler, mounds of scattered cheerios, cartoons, my uncle's computer, a neglected journal, and art supplies that have sadly, and rather symbolically, all dried out.
Well. In the mean time, let me show you a painting that I started in my journal. It is how I feel. The word is "aglow" but I am not sure if those are tentacles or vines growing into the picture. They feel ominous, but maybe they will blossom with the light and with time... I don't know.
Maybe by the time I finish the painting, I will know.