Paint Drei

As I work through the process painting workshop of AROUSE, I'm struck by the reconnection to my individual senses, my expanding knowledge of how they overlap, and the incredible memories that arise during each exercise.

Today, I had quite the most illuminating experience. I was eating a spoonful of peanut butter. This isn't new. I frequently eat PB right out of the jar, with a spoon. I actually prefer tastes to be simple and uncluttered. I like to be able to discern each individual component of something I'm eating. Its why my meals tend to be simple and minimally processed, with the exception of baked items which I covet and crave in a way that is inexplicable.

What struck me, while I was eating this PB, is this: I'd forgotten that eating is a sensual experience. Its amazing, the body's response to the introduction of any stimulus, but particularly something that offers such an incredibly varied sensation like food -- it engages your eyes, your tactile senses, smell, and taste. Sometimes, even hearing (for instance, crackling skillet or grill sounds). I don't know about anyone else, but I also have a variety of emotional responses to food, as well.

I'm particularly impacted by textures. I strongly dislike foods that I believe are unpleasant, texture-wise. For instance, the absorbency of dry bread in my mouth is unbearable. I cannot stand the way that it sucks away all moisture and then sticks to the roof of my mouth. Actually, just thinking of it engages my gag reflex. I do not like things that are perfectly smooth, like applesauce, or slimy, like very ripe banana. While I have no problem with the taste of any of those things, I will not eat them because I find the texture so abhorrent.

 

When I was a young woman, I wouldn't eat in front of other people. I remember explaining to the man that has since become my husband, that eating is an intimate experience and that I didn't feel comfortable in company, as a general rule. That situation lasted until my mid-20s. I'm not sure why I abandoned that particular point of view, but (like many other things) I think it went the way of being pushed aside because I was just too busy with children and house and work and more. So, like a zillion other innate knowledge that I once held, it was relegated into my big file cabinet called "Get Over It, Michele."

Interestingly, most of my 'new' experiences in my 40s are really just remembrances of things that I'd always known, but have forgotten, or ignored, over the last 20 or more years. While I hesitate to sound melodramatic, I think its a truth that I absolutely lost myself in my 20s and 30s. I forgot who and what was important to ME and went through the motions of making myself disappear while I fed my career, children, husband, education, community, and every other external aspect that I focused on. I'm not asking for pity in this area. Perhaps, those behaviors were necessary at the time. Regardless, it was MY choice to follow that path, and the results and consequences and benefits are mine, as well. Today, I'm a well-educated woman with a career (albeit, one I'm not sure I wish to continue), a respected reputation, two adult children raised, a long-term marriage, and a reasonable amount of 'stuff.'

I also have many lessons under my belt about what NOT to do. Unfortunately, it was necessary for me to learn many of those 'the hard way.' That's OK. I've made a multitude of mistakes, many of which I can still see the results of, today. Trying to learn from them and be grateful for the lessons is the way that I manage the fallout. Sometimes, there are amazing benefits as the results of difficult circumstances. Those are true gifts from the universe, I believe.

For today, my lesson learned: chew slowly, smell carefully, touch gently, see openly, and hear clearly. Engage in the glory of EVERY experience. The simplest are often the most memorable.

What will you savor, today? Who will you share it with?

Blessed be!

Senses in Practice -- Paint

For those of you who weren't aware, I'm taking an online expressive art class called AROUSE from Hali Karla at LilyWheel Slide Studio. Because, of course, I want to protect the integrity of the class, I will not share the course content with you. However, I do want to share my thoughts and work and process as I go along for a variety of reasons, but mostly to assist me in promoting my own awareness.

I should say, first, that I haven't had a paintbrush in my hand to do free-painting in many, many years. Actually, I believe the last time I painted anything other than walls and stencils was in my early 20s. I'm not sure why that is, but I believe that I abandoned the activity, along with lots of other pleasurable pursuits, in the process of raising kids, working two or three jobs, and going back to school. And, there was also that small voice in my head that said I wasn't good enough, so why bother. I'd be less than truthful if I didn't include that fact. So, needless to say, this was an entirely newly remembered experience.

In truth, my paintings of early years were often done in the middle of the night, with an intensity that was almost out of control -- a desperate need to complete whatever thing was coming out of my head. Paint was never my favorite artistic medium. I preferred charcoal and chalk pastels -- things that I could blend and use directly with my hands, move and smudge and bring to action. But, when I did paint, I painted BIG. On huge canvases that took up walls, those were my preferences. I wanted room to play with paint. THAT was the experience that I'd forgotten and the one that came home to me in vivid color, today.

As I worked my way through the first set of exercises, which included writing prompts and experiential activities designed to awaken sensation and awareness, I was struck by the most wonderful thing: PEACE. I felt completely at ease. I didn't worry about what was going to be, whether my thoughts differed from other people's, or if I'd remember how to blend paint. Nothing mattered. I just breathed, and wrote, and experienced, and (for all practical purposes) played.

And, guess what? I didn't forget how to blend paint, or how to choose my brush, or how to position an easel or a foam board. I remembered. I didn't forget how to layer color, or how to be simple, or how to add texture. 

I learned a few new things, too. Its my preference to paint unencumbered. For those of you who need me to be direct, I mean unclothed...or, as close as possible to it (obviously, I can't be parading around the yard Au naturale, since I live in town and have neighbors who would likely call the police once they got past their initial shock). But, when I put that brush in my hand, my immediately response was to find my clothing annoying.

The other thing that struck me: painting is a sensual, joyous experience. I was well aware of the aromas of the paint, the feel of the brush tips against the board, me swaying while considering and angling for the next step. I found my eyes closed as often as open, and lilting music playing in my head. For a second, I regretted not putting music on to play, but then I realized that I'd have been deprived of the sense of my own rhythm that felt quite right.

Let me say this with unequivocal consideration: it doesn't matter how the final product looks. I needn't create perfection or something that looks like a copy of a natural object. That wasn't what was intended, nor what is important. What I loved most of all about today: the EXPERIENCE. It was clean and lingering and sensual and pleasurable and joyful. It put me in touch with ME. And, I have my own voice, my own song, my own vision.

So do you! What is YOUR vision...song...words? Where do you hide them? How do you free them?

SHOW ME

Blessed be!