This has been consuming my thoughts since last night. It's a quote from Brené Brown on Magic Lessons #12, with Elizabeth Gilbert. "My creativity requires Midwifery" lead me to telling myself how easily shame can emerge when we share our work. Mine does, anyway. From the far away corner of my mind, there it is. But lasst night I had a new response to it. Shame - you are dead to me! The feeling of letting go of shame was with me as I waited for sleep. 

When sleep finally came, I dreamed I was dying. All night long, the same dream, dying over and over. Dying? Why? I even remember, in my dream, a vague awareness of the dreamstate, and thought it was odd. Like a toddler who will not stop repeating MOMMY until you stop and respond, it kept repeating itself, over and over again. 

There were tiles and letters painted in the corners. They were red or yellow, off and on, one or the other. White. There was a lot of white, too. I wasn't scared or sad, Just watching, and for some reason, feeling relieved. 

Morning came and I looked back with curiosity on my dreams. What did it all mean- and Why wasn't I scared? What were my dreams telling me? 

Midwifery helps bring life into the world. Let's say the word life represents the result (or fruit) of any creative force. Feeling bad, embarrassed, or ashamed about bringing that life out into the world can lead to letting it die - and I am so madly in love with my newfound art that I refuse to let shame destroy it. I think my dream was trying to tell me that I am finally letting shame die. It's had a death grip on the corner of my shirt every time I run to Facebook and share my creations. I need to let die that ugly little voice that has been whispering in my ear 'leave them alone - you are driving them crazy with this stuff! Enough! Stop it with the Donna Show!'

Part of the joy in creating the paintings is showing them. Not just because people are so sweet and kind and even excited, but because I just can't freaking believe how much fun it is! There is also an element of shock, because until 4 months ago, I had no idea I was artistic.

When Brené Brown said those words, it was like a clap of thunder. I thought of my friends on social media and here in the flesh who cheer me on and knew - THEY ARE MY MIDWIVES!!! Everyone who helps me by allowing me to simply bring this art into the world with joy... THEY are my midwives. 

It's not that I couldn't do it without them, but I wouldn't. They are part of my joy. 

These last several years have forced me to completely rethink who I am, why I am, and what it is I can offer the world. I feel new. Reborn. When my career died, I thought there was nothing left. I thought that's all I was. My midwives are helping me discover who I am.

My creativity requires midwifery. Maybe I'll have it tattooed across my forehead, backwards, so that I'll be reminded whenever I pass by a mirror.

#BigMagic

I’m pretty sure my muse has a mad crush on Darwish.

When I read from his Butterfly’s Burden, my lips fall silent, but my soul awakens and I am filled with something so powerful it can’t stay in. So I paint, and out it comes. A gift, from Darwish to me through my muse, or I like to thinks so. There is no better explanation.

Yesterday I read “Housework” in the waiting room at the doctor’s office.

“I stared at a bird and saw your wings
wearing my wings in a eucalyptus tree.”

And then this

“How often?
After midnight, the sun rose
in our blood,
how much of me is you, my love
how often! Who am I!”

Your wings wearing my wings in a eucalyptus tree? How much of me is you? Be still my heart. My muse’s knees melted. She wanted to paint and I got out of her way.

With quiet music playing, as white sage and a candle burned, I sat at my studio table scanning my materials, waiting to see which ones wanted to be used.

I reached for Sailboat Blue and the color named Stream, using them to create blue sky background, edge to edge, across a 12.5” x 12.5” ceramic tile. More inks were pulled out for the eucalyptus tree that was in my mind. Teakwood and Meadow Green. Every shade of red was set aside close at hand. I knew there would be red.

A small Vaseline container, chosen for its flat sides, elevated one corner of the tile higher than the other three. I flipped the switch on my air compressor and added a drop of Teakwood on that raised corner. The air sent it flowing in lines, branching out across the tile. One, in particular, wanted to keep traveling, so I followed, pushing it out as far as it wanted to reach.

Branches sprang from that corner, stretching out across the bright blue sky, one Teakwood drop at a time.

Now, the leaves. Meadow Green rushed out, forming a drop much larger than expected, and the air sent it out in feathery form, not the fan shaped leaf in my mind. I let the paint have its way and about five leaves in I laughed, looking at the feathery green sprays. I remembered gingko leaves are like little green fans! I had no idea what a eucalyptus tree looked like and so just kept painting, adding leaves, following strands of green across the ceramic blue sky.

Blooms, came a thought.

Blooms? I answered back.

Blooms.

Do eucalyptus trees even have blooms? 

Blooms.

My smart phone got me to the internet and photos of eucalyptus flowers. My leaves were not so far off! Eucalyptus trees have long, slender, green leaves that hang like clumps of green hair. The flowers were red and circular- soft looking spiny threads with yellow centers.  

One at a time, scattered where they needed to be, a drop of red, followed by a drop of white and then a burst of air. Before long my eucalyptus was in full bloom and my muse was smiling.




This post was inspired by a Tweetspeak Poetry Dare. Thank you, Sandra, for letting me tag along on your journey through the works of Darwish. :)