June 2,  2002

      i got the hint from Himself yesterday, to get back to this journal.  He had a great list of things i could be doing - and an entry was near the top of that list.

     i painted instead.  

     He accused me of being a "dabbler".  Meaning that i dabble at things - the creative part of me that is.  And then when i get tired of dabbling, i find something new.  He's pretty much right.  So i've been examining the idea for a few weeks now, trying to discover why i'm like that.  

     i think part of it is because i get frustrated by a lack of training; the lack of knowledge that being able to able to fully express one's creativity is necessary to have.  i think it's just possible that having the right skill set allows for the self-discipline required to keep going.  i know the more i learn at work, the more determined i become to progress even further.

     But i also realize part of my dabbling probably stems from the fact that once i've conquered something, it tends to lose it's "newness" appeal.  Challenge is part of the allure.  Like my son (or my son like me!) i get bored and look for new stimulation.  

     Having said all that however, i'm discovering that painting feels different.  i tried to explain it to a visiting friend yesterday - and i fear i came off as some kind of babbling fool.

     i love to write - in fact i still carry around a lot of stories in my head, that i'm determined to actually pen the words to one day.  And i've even been moderately happy with the few short stories i've tried.  Yet i've never experienced the emotion with writing that i have during my beginning stages of painting.

     i've done a couple of really bad pieces.  And somehow i'm okay with that - especially when, after the last really bad one, a friend of ours telephoned and said "..you know, I think you might be on to something - keep going.."  i felt very encouraged, especially since this person already lives with a hugely talented artist and is a visual artist himself.  So i'm "keeping going".  And the really bad pieces stay upstairs - the ones that i like and feel good about, i bring downstairs and bravely perch amongst all the really good art done by others.  That's a huge step for me.

     But back to the point i keep trying to find the words to express.  

     When i paint (or draw) it suddenly becomes an emotional thing.  i painted the profile of a woman - capturing just her face and leaving out hair and etc.  As i was working on her it felt like she was developing her own personality.  It felt as though each stroke of the brush was not only creating her face, but applying her makeup.  She feels like a part of me now - when i look at her, i see reflected the emotion i had at that time - the calmness that i felt.  

     Yesterday i painted a pregnant woman's torso.  Just her large breasts and even larger belly.  All around her (the background) i painted very dark and womblike - the sharp oval of a woman - as though this pregnancy were emerging from a womb.  i don't know how to describe that kind of emotion. i do know i became emotionally attached, and am experiencing a strong sense of protective ownership.  The same kind of passion that i feel toward my children.  

     i tried to explain all this to our visiting friend.  i think she understood too.  In fact, she recognized the hint of the womb - something i found particularly gratifying, because it means i'm starting to know how to express with the paint what is in my head.  And in my soul.

     The pull of that painting is strong.  It feels like an invisible string connecting me to it.  i found any excuse to go back upstairs and look at it yesterday. (It remains upstairs until thoroughly dry - but i'm almost eager to bring it down to the living room!)  

     i feel like i gave birth to it.  Daffy as all that sounds.

     i think this time i need to take my dabbling habits a few steps further and actually get the training i need to keep going.  Because no matter whether i have any real talent or not, the sheer emotional impact and benefits are good for me.

     And equally as important, i know that this is the sort of thing that Himself has always wanted from me - that willingness to work and not squander myself, like i used to do in the past.   

      Maybe painting will be what it takes to erase some of the negative self-worth patterns.  Or should i say - what's left of them.  Himself has managed to get rid of a bunch of them already, just through the type of behaviour He expects from me.  i guess all those psych books do have a few valid points - if you raise your expectations of someone, they will rise with you.

     One day i'd like to be rid of the little fear bubble that insists that if i get too happy something will go wrong.  'Cause it always worked that way.

     i want it gone.  'Cause i am very happy.

     Anybody got an eraser?     

                

      Hint:  email

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