Colour my words…

Funny, I’ve started this blog 3 times…words fail me (I’m sure it’s temporary).  As this journey with and without Marco progresses, I feel more and more content.  We connect everyday, often late in the evening or early in the morning (for me) and we probably talk more than we ever have. I’m feeling stronger within myself and more peaceful than I have in a long time.  While some people don’t understand why we would choose to be apart for two years, I believe absolutely that this has been the best thing for us, and our relationship is stronger because of it.

As you know, the last time I was in Sydney, I started to play around with watercolour painting.  I wrote in my last blog about how it calmed my mind.  What I realize is that it also gives me an outlet for expressing myself, something I have been trying to achieve with my blog posts.  Sometimes, however, words actually get in the way of what I’m feeling.  It’s hard to explain, but a friend of mine who paints, talks about her watercolours sometimes getting ‘muddy’.  I think I know what she means – you work and work the painting until you’ve lost it.  The colours may become less transparent, the work gets muddled and you wish you’d known when to stop.  Words are like that too, I think.  When I write, I try to search for the ‘essence’ of what I’m feeling, but sometimes I clutter that up with too much detail, too many words.

Through painting, I’m feeling less of a need to write my feelings down.  So far, my paintings are mostly of birds, so I’m  not exactly painting what I’m feeling in the moment.  However, when I play with the colours and watch them meld together, it gives me what I call my ‘hummingbird calm’ – that feeling I wrote about in my very first blog.  The feeling that carried me through the death of my Father last fall, and the departure of Marco in January. The feeling that I tried so hard to replicate in the months after Marco left. I found it in the most unlikely of places – standing at the kitchen counter of Marco’s tiny apartment one day, playing with paint. Somehow I discovered strength and peace in the simple process of adding water to colour.

This is not what I planned to write about but it’s where I’m at right now.  It’s a good place.  That doesn’t mean it’s without its tough moments, the challenging times are a necessary part of the process and provide growth.  I don’t even want to think about what would happen if I stopped growing…I’m 4’10” already and I’m hoping to be 6′ by the time I’m 70 :).  And, just so you know I’m working on that growth, I’ve graduated from painting only birds and I’m trying my hand at people…