titanium white and cadmium yellow

I'm thinking about learning how to paint. I think about this every now and then particularly when the poetic well is running low. Fortunately I still write to this blog on a fairly regular basis.

I've come to the part of the cylce in my life when I'm not writing, simply because I don't feel like saying anything right now. If the cycle runs its course, next year should be much more prolific for me in terms of writing. But for now, I'm watching the grass grow.

I attended a seminar retreat being run by my old English teacher. She recently wrote a book called, "Fresh Water" that she's looking to get published. It's a book about finding and seeing the gifts from God on a daily basis. I found that though I tended to replace God with "Higher Power" or "the Universe," in the end, we shared similar spiritual philosophies. I believe in the reciprical nature of love and that the gifts and words that come to us can come from anywhere and everywhere, not just in church, not just in scripture. Those are just some of the vehicles.

At the end of the seminar she set up various stations to allow ourselves to enter private moments of being in the present time. A station to listen to music, a station to read poems and words, a station to look at nature pictures, and a station to paint on tile.

I bounced around and found myself at the tile painting section last. Most people wanted to paint something distinct, a picture of a lake, a tree, something specific. I wanted to paint where my brush wanted to go. Pick up colors that drew me in. Paint what felt "right." It was nice to be in this space. To be obsessive over the stroke of the tip. Explore how the colors changed. As folks were cleaning up, I frantically tried to hurry up and finish the tile, remembering the advise of a 2nd grade teacher, "always fill the entire canvas." I'll find out in a week what my tile will look like.

I came away thinking I wanted to paint more. Perhaps take a class to get me started. I've been spending much time in my head as of late. My life is planning, planning, planning. It'd be nice to set aside some time, to leave that behind for a few moments here and there. There have been images that have come to me, that I have not found the words for. These images are building, waiting for me to give them an outlet somewhere. In the same way I cannot deny the poem when it is written. I cannot deny these paintings in my head. They deserve that much.