"Trust that still, small voice that says, 'This might work and I'll try it.'"Diane Marechild
The past few days have been the lulling, quiet, not much happening type, just the kind that used to make me antsy and impulsive and then for no good reason morph into angst and ennui. But no more. Life is good. The weather is lovely. I woke to rain this morning, so in a day or two my garden will do the happy dance.
I'm painting without having the least idea where I'm going, and yet just the doing is good. The flip side of trusting the process, the nasty nagging side is feeling as though I have no idea what I'm doing either. Well, it's true, I don't, and I can choose how I feel about that. Shall I put on my duck and cover gear or step into my tutu and boa and dance anyway? When I was writing more and felt dry, I strung words together that meant nothing at all until some twitch of an idea began to move to a sentence, to a thought, to some idea I had no notion waited inside me. Kind of like now. Now I trust my writing process. I don't know this way of working with paint, but I suspect it is the same. Be patient my heart.
"To the rationally minded the mental processes of the intuitive appear to work backwards." Frances Wickes
Baruch ata adonai...please protect me from my rational mind and it's need to build fences to keep it safe. May I create with paint like my flowers bloom in my garden: sometime showy, sometime waiting for my words, or fertilizer, or protection from the garden bullies, those slow moving, voracious, relentless, snails to eat them up. Help me paint in an organic way that has nothing to do with my marvelous mind. Amen