this is me, showing up
this is not the weimaraner post i was going to write today. i am sitting at the airport – missing a friend and feeling raw and sleepy – so instead you get me, showing up, just as i am in this moment.
i am on my way home from an intuitive painting retreat with chris zydel, something i have wanted to do for a couple of years now. i don't really know what i expected but it was intense and supportive and healing and, i suspect, transformative, in ways that i cannot see just yet.
a couple of weeks ago, i realized that i don't have trouble with the hard and the dark – it feels comfortable and familiar – but i have a great deal of trouble with the light and the bright and the good. not yours – i can see that and celebrate it – but mine.
at the same time, i am getting a sense of where i am heading. not in this moment, maybe not for years, but it feels big. it feels big enough that it scares me. my sense is also that in order to get there, i am going to have to dance with the light.
while working on one particular painting, the idea that had the most energy in one moment was to add glitter. i thought i would just be adding glitter to one small section but it turned out that i had to cover the entire painting with glitter. as i painted on the glitter, i could not stop crying. i kept hearing voices saying that it was too colorful, too sparkly, too much, that no one would like it.
when the painting was completely covered in glitter, the idea that had the most energy was to add large sparkles on top of the glitter. as i painted on the sparkles, i cried even harder. i thought the emotion behind the tears might be fear but when i felt into it, i felt this huge sense of loss. it felt like i had lost something infinitely precious and i didn't know how to get it back. the loss felt very old and very deep.
so that's where i am in this moment. i am reconnecting with the parts of me that knew how to be big and bold and expressive. the parts of me that thought it was natural to be rich and vibrant and colorful. the parts of me that lived and loved with playful abandon. the parts of me that believed i was sparkling and luminescent and powerful.
it feels raw and messy and painful. it also feels very real. and somehow, i feel hopeful.
i feel very vulnerable sharing this, but i offer it up, knowing that i am not the only one who struggles with recognizing and owning and expressing the bright and the light and the good. may we all move closer toward seeing our own beauty and radiance.
p.s. intuitive painting is about the process, not the painting, so no comments on the paintings-in-progress, please. though in truth, two of the photos are of my paint palette.
as a total side note, i am delighted with the serendipity of monday’s post, since i wrote it before i left, purely because it was what came into my head when i saw the photos!
Keep dancing with your light, Elizabeth! I wish I could hug, because I so understand how vulnerable this feels for you. Art can release so much–sometimes it’s scary, sometimes it’s joyful. And sometimes it is easier to see the light in other people, harder to see one’s own light. So wonderful you took this course, it’s a big thing. And I’m thrilled you’re opening to the possibilities of your own vibrancy and making it known–to yourself, and other. You are brave being here with all of this today! I support you. And I know we’re not supposed to say anything about the paintings, but when I saw them come up on the screen I honestly thought, there she goes, she’s finding her light and her colors. It’s good… It’s big. I love it! Interestingly, just the other day I wrote about art and coming home to oneself through art. If you’d like to talk more this, I’m here, you know. And the more glitter, the better. ;o) Anyway, thanks so much for sharing this. Happy Day ((HUGS))
thank you elizabeth for the link to painting from the wild heart.
i read it all.
i have been in a little lucite box for so long that i can’t imagine climbing out of it. i want to. i used to think i was creative. but it was all about staying in the lines. of art. of life. of being judged. i think i was coming out of that… then i lost my husband of 17 yrs and i went into another form of me. fear. doesn’t make sense. even now. but i’m ready to be me … the real me again. but here i am in this box.
i know you said not to comment on the pictures. but the last one to me means hope.
love,
tammy j
“the parts of me that knew how to be big and bold and expressive. the parts of me that thought it was natural to be rich and vibrant and colorful. the parts of me that lived and loved with playful abandon. the parts of me that believed i was sparkling and luminescent and powerful”….yes….keep adding that glitter to every sparkling thing you touch..glitter may just be the word I use to silence my own dreadful “story demons” this week…the ones that pop in my head and say how I am not good enough, pretty enough, or smart enough…just not enough is what they say…I think I will just throw some glitter their way. Thank you…keep shining your BIG and Beautiful LIGHT! xoxo
Elizabeth, I love that you did this for yourself…. and that you shared all of the parts with us. you are moving forward in new and beautiful ways and it’s a very good thing. Giant hugs to you and Atlas too!!! (I hope he got to visit his favorite ranch!)
An interesting transition from the top painting to the bottom one.
@jerry: the top one (top two) is actually a paint tray 😉
Elizabeth…..thank you for sharing. I hope your sparkles only get brighter. And maybe the rest of us will find our sparkles too.
huggggs.
muah!
because i just can’t get enough sparkle! your words put a little squeeze on my heart.
Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. As someone else who struggles with seeing the good/light/vibrant, I felt such a sense of relief and relaxation and letting-go as I read this. And maybe there were some tears, too. I feel like the bigger, wiser, more loving part of myself is kindly saying, simultaneously, “See, it’s not just you.” and “Hooray for light and vibrant and sparkly and big and powerful!” and “Sad has its place, but it’s not the only place, and it doesn’t need to overwhelm all the other places. It’s okay to let it go, when you’re done with it.”
a hand-on-heart sigh for you, Elizabeth, and all that this post contains.
((hugs, too))
-case
What better place to start than the paint tray.
An intuitive painting retreat sounds wonderful and also scary. Even though I have a BA in studio art I feel very inadequate when it comes to painting/drawing. My true love is photography because for some reason I don’t judge myself while I’m taking photos.
Thanks for sharing your journey!
xo
cortnie
@jerry: none at all!
@steph: you are welcome. big love for you and your struggles and your big wise self. xo
@casey: love & appreciation.
@jen t: *mwah* right back. sparkles for all of us! (there is certainly enough sparkle on that painting for everyone. 😉
@ann: i hope (and wish) so.
@patty: he did indeed! apparently he spent this visit trying valiantly to catch bella, a very speedy weimaraner who can apparently outrun every other dog there.
@stephanie: ouch. those story demons are dreadful. hand on heart sigh for all the hard in those encounters. sending lots of love.
@tracy: i love the serendipity of that! i loved your post too. thank you for telling me what you thought .. one of the things i realized during the week is that i paint the way i want to live, only i don’t know how to .. so there was something very hopeful about your noticing. so much appreciation for you.
@tammy: huge hand on heart sigh for everything you said and everything behind it. wishing you hope and possibility and maybe a magical collapsing box.
What an amazing process for your Soul, Heart and Spirit, Elizabeth. To have been willing to travel to that vulnerable place and bring the lessons into the light is incredibly brave. I have heard amazing things about the environment that Chris provides for self discover through true creative process. Brava to you for giving yourself this gift.
Be gentle with your sweet self as you come in for a landing with all you have brought with you.
Light and love !
This totally took my breath away. Thank you for showing up Elizabeth.
I love you. There is so much more to say and also, really, nothing more to say.
<3. and i love the 3rd and 4th pic/painting, can't decide which i like more:)
i would love to hug you right now. i get this. i do this. i feel this. thank you for sharing your moment with me; it makes my moments feel more normal. i can’t imagine loving you more…and i send that energy westward. xo
@leanne: i can feel it. and i would love to hug you too. one of these days!
@helen: haha. it’s actually two stages of the same painting. i had to document it between steps.
@briana: i love you. xoxo
@andrea: you are welcome.
@kim: thank you! i am being very gentle. and chris creates such an amazing environment for this. i would love to go to another event some day.
@cortnie: i feel the same way. my photos are pure play, and i love them more than anything else i do .. i wish i could remember that and play (and not judge) in all the other areas.
Thanks for this post, Elizabeth. I’m in that place where who I am is not who I’ve been. If that makes any sense. But I am convinced that this journey leads to a beautiful place.
Big hugs to you!
thanks for showing up, Elizabeth. I’m touched that you did.
oh I’ve had you in my thoughts, Elizabeth…and wondering how your workshop went! it’s sounds like it was fulfilling, indeed. hugs to you. xoxo