In the quiet fractures of a weary heart
a single brushstroke parts the dark apart
and colours bloom
where once was only pain.
~ Maryke
When I’m not able to paint, I write. Writing allows me to express when all other expression just doesn’t seem to want to fall into place. Today upon reflection of the state of my belongings being gone, I felt the extreme loss in my heart.
I browse my favourite artists and I remember the distinct feel of my brushes between my fingers, the feel of the paper and the smell of water and paint mixing, and my heart aches all over again.
And I’m honestly not in the place where I can accept that “things happen for a reason”, it’s too easy for people to cut themselves off from things that are supposed to be meaningful.
It screams to me that you are too scared to feel, and so you live life half. You’re scared of anger? You’re scared of getting hurt? You’re scared of sadness and grief? Those are the emotions that allows you to connect to the feelings of joy, of playfulness, of peace and of being in the moment.
So I wholeheartedly give myself over to the sadness, because soon it will turn into pure joy.
I give myself over to the darkness, because soon I’ll see the light.
I give myself over to the devastation, because from the devastation we rise like the Phoenix – our ashes become our fire and we burn bright.
We carry on.
And so I will as an artist live this life with every emotion at my disposal, even if it brings me to my knees. But live I will live. And live you must live. Despite the setbacks or the fears. Just show up.
Just live.