 |
| Goodbye pencil and crayon by me
Today I felt inspired to put up this very simple drawing from a few years ago, that I drew to help me through a friend's passing. Even though barely anything at all, I am still comforted when I look at it.
It shows our essences, suspended in the cosmos, forehead to forehead, eyes closed, in restful, knowing, communion.
I have always been amazed when I have glanced back at this simple drawing, which could have easily been one I crinkled up and played basketball with into the garbage can, because of its lackluster. The opposite happened. I cherish this drawing, and feel reverence for whatever I captured that summons forth his essence to me, and the memory of our sweet connection. And each time, I relive the miracle of him.
If this doesn't make art a form of magic, I don't know what does.
|
After over ten years of an incredibly intense journey as a seeker, I find myself lying fallow. Taking a rest. When I first discovered this uncomfortable fact — threat to the hamster wheel that was my spiritual rat race, I surrendered for dead, but something wouldn’t let that fact sit as truth. I was lying fallow, but this implied that after a good rest, fruit could follow. This had nothing to do with death.
I am humbled at the courage it takes to write. For many years I kept a blog read by only a handful of very supportive people, and you’d think that after sharing writing for so long with perfect strangers, writing would have gotten easier. Actually, it got harder. In fact, at one point I was so paralyzed, I just stopped writing altogether. It was just too vulnerable. There was no trust there anymore, and I attributed any courage I had had to my youthful ignorance.
However, life continues, as it inevitably does, and there is still this pang to write, and it grows stronger and strong…
I am humbled at the courage it takes to write. For many years I kept a blog read by only a handful of very supportive people, and you’d think that after sharing writing for so long with perfect strangers, writing would have gotten easier. Actually, it got harder. In fact, at one point I was so paralyzed, I just stopped writing altogether. It was just too vulnerable. There was no trust there anymore, and I attributed any courage I had had to my youthful ignorance.
However, life continues, as it inevitably does, and there is still this pang to write, and it grows stronger and strong…
Yes! <3!
ReplyDelete:)!
DeleteOh Brooke. There is so much in this drawing for me...it just kind of melts my heart and opens it at the same time. I absolutely love the simplicity of it and how it captures everything. So happy you didn't crumple it up. Yumminess.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, sweet friend. Means so much to have you here.XO
Delete