When there is a surprise of a combination of colors speaking from the soul, it is like finding the right niggun, melody, for the occasion. A melody having traveled through many generations, it guides us towards release, calm, or tears. Sometimes a yearning. The colors come together often reminding me of the eulogy that came forth and spoke the truth, helping others grieve, remember, let go, and/or hold on. The color creation stirs me, like the unexpected words flowing through me as I taught a class. There was an awakening of awareness, the Neon Yellow broke through all that was planned.
Color and flow are the Creator Herself. The Still Small Voice guides me to pick up Coffee instead of Cranberry, or Pool Blue instead of Turquoise, or Sunbright Yellow instead of Forest Green. And then add a touch of Gold, and to never forget the shades of Violet and Purple. Except when Sunset Red or Flamingo is calling to join.
Other times I am disappointed. I didn’t listen to the voice telling me to stop, and I turned something stupendous into a mush of clashing colors. I had to try one more color, one more technique, a little bit more alcohol, and now it’s ruined. Sometimes when accompanying someone on the path to Home, I can’t stop talking. The opportunity for inspiration is missed. Or there is the time when a meal is so delicious, I want more, and get sick from eating too much.
Less is more, but more is tempting.
I made five abstracts. One touches the soul, one is interesting, and three are dull and chaotic. I am cranky. Somehow, I forgot how much all the playing, listening, making mistakes, and trying again kept me alive. All of it.
And then there is the discovery of composition. Something I “ruined” is transformed by changing its shape from a rectangle to a heart. A simple cropping, enlarging, or adding one color in the corner turns a collection of colors on the page to a story that draws you in. Once again, when I think I have ruined the moment, there is an opportunity for recovery. I come back to the Sacred through a different door. As it is when I choose to sing a different prayer or melody, take a breath, and return. I say I’m sorry, and bring myself to begin anew.
Each time I enter the world of creating, I encounter prayer, longing, and the Still Small Voice invites me to listen. Even more deeply.
And let us say Amen….
