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I have discovered that palette knife is my favorite tool. I love the rough texture it leaves and the message it conveys, that even when we find ourselves in the rough waters of life there is plenty of beauty all around us. |
My daily dose of three pages of longhand sometimes feels like wading through a layer of muck that reaches up to my eyeballs. Other times it's as exhilarating and terrifying as a free-fall off a cliff while I count seconds before crash-landing.
Even though I sure can talk, I want to think of myself as being a pretty good listener. I am discovering, however, that I might be listening to everyone else except to my own soul.
In my head I know I am safe, but my heart is unnerved by the torrent. I need a place that would assure this anxious heart that it's O.K. and calm the rush of swirling thoughts.
Going to the ocean for my first artist's date seems most appropriate.
Ocean has always been a dependable wellspring of safety for me. It never fails to welcome me with open arms, no questions asked. Not once have I heard him pout,
"Where have you been??? Why haven't I seen you in so long??!"
I admit that I do tend to say to myself,
"God, I MISS this!", every time I make it to the beach.
I must be imagining because in the rumble of its roaring waves I think I hear an echo,
"I missed you too. I'm glad you are back."
No cold shoulder. Not a hint of reproach.
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