"Hell" not a very inviting title is it?
"Hell is not a place, but a state of mind"
are the words that came to me while painting today.
My Gremlin/Inner Critic doesn't want me to write this post.
He doesn't want me to share this story with you.
"What about the five others you have in draft?" he implores me.
Yes, why not complete one of them?
Why not play it safe?
Why risk baring your soul and art for ridicule?
All very valid points, my dear inner guardian.
But I have had a few prompts from The Universe in the past few days....
It began with an innocent looking email.
My dear friend and mentor, Connie wrote a post Vulnerable Naked Bare.
where she bared her soul,
shared her raw emotions
and shared her "dark" paintings.
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Reading her words, seeing her art, "feeling" her pain, her vulnerability,
it stirred things inside,
it opened up the wounds buried deep down inside,
in that dark hiding spot,
the one that no-one usually can find.
Connie's paintings.....her words......her recent journey.....
they moulded together to create a key,
and it flung open the door to my 'secret hiding spot'.
The flood gates opened,
the tears streamed,
my breath quickened,
my chest tightened,
and my gut churned.
I sat in front of my computer feeling like my heart had just got ripped violently from my chest.
Underworld1 (detail)
Old wounds fester in the dark.
We pretend they aren't there.
We think if we can't see them, they will just disappear.
We think if we don't think about "it", "it" will just melt away,
dissolve into the tapestry of our past.
We put on that "brave face" that we are taught about as a child.
We make sure the world thinks "she copes so well".
Trust me, I've worn that:
"Can cope with anything life throws at me" badge
proudly on my chest for all to see.
It became a badge of honour.
"Yes world, look at me. I can cope."
When younger I had a boyfriend whose favourite saying was:
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger".
"Crikey, I'm so strong I can carry the whole world on my shoulders",
my EGO would boast.
Chin up.
Brave face.
Smile.
Fall apart later.
Hold it all together.
Cope.
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Yes COPE.
I ended up so busy coping, that I turned it into an art form.
I've mentioned before
How I used avoidance as a coping mechanism.
Yes, avoid the pain.
Avoid tending to the wound.
Cover it in layers and layers of "busy-ness" and it will just go away all by itself.
Sailing along quite nicely, thank you very much.
Unexpectedly,
someone I admire greatly, starts to walk a similar path,
her story starts to mirror my own.
And the tiny, almost invisible hair-line fractures start to form.
They travel like cracks in sheet ice,
moving swiftly but silently across the surface.
If I don't look too closely, I won't see them.
I can continue on blindly.
"No worries, mate."
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One.
One extra straw gets added.
and I know.......
I know I can't put it off any longer.
I HAVE to face the un-face-able.
I HAVE to heal those wounds.
I HAVE to heal with a brush.
I HAVE to heal with paint.
I HAVE to stand in front of that blank page and face my demons.
I HAVE to venture into the Underworld.
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"It's a privilege to journey the Underworld." my friend Connie over-heard Pixie say.
I feel like I'm eaves-dropping.
Eaves-dropping on a conversation my soul NEEDS to hear.....
Underworld3 (detail)
The Underworld beckons.
But,
rather then entering fearfully.
I enter with reverence.
I enter with the open mind of knowing it will bring forth good.
It will bring healing.
It will bring closure.
It will bring in the light.
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My gorgeous friend Shamsi wrote, only days ago, in our Painting Tribe
"playing it small serves no one..."
so I hush my Gremlin,
and I share my "dark paintings"
I feel GRATITUDE.
I bring them into the LIGHT.
For Art Heals.
LIGHT Heals.
Underworld4 (detail)
