I’ve been away.
I’ve been traveling in my mind. I’ve been gone from this place and in a much different space. I’ve been thinking. I’ve been pondering. I’ve been working my fingers to the bone and I’ve been creating.
It happens every winter…I escape into my depths.
I escaped into my writing…hundreds of pages inked in cursive.
I escaped into my heart asking myself, “What’s next?”
And I found the answers I needed.
I have access to a place that I don’t have when the moon isn’t as close. It takes the air chilling down, the night to come earlier, the mornings to be crisper and the evenings to become dead still for me to arrive. And make no mistake…I have come back.
I have come back to a place that’s so familiar to this heart of mine…where everything is slowing down losing its life…
And yet…I’m coming alive.
I’ve had people tell me that they can see it in my eyes. The changes. Those piercing grey to silver eyes that are blue in the spring and summer. They are changing. I am changing. I have arrived where I feel much more at home.
And through these winter months, I’m here to stay.
There’s a fearlessness and ferocity to the vibrations that are going through me right now. It’s not dangerous, but it’s powerful. It’s not threatening, but it’s strong and I can feel them. Those darker colors of the paint set are attractive to the eye and soul…
And as I spread them onto the canvas, they sing. They speak. They tell stories that I couldn’t speak of here. They bleed all over the canvas as the War Painter would have them. Dark in parts…yet, still beautiful. Still light.
Still…full of joy.
The paintings I’ve done lately, as I put in my headphones and put on music that speaks to me, are expressive. They speak of cuts that run deep and a love that pours out of me. Stories of pain and great happiness, both swirling and dancing with each other at the same time.
Something years ago I thought couldn’t exist in the same moment…
But something I very well now know that they are both true…and can both hold true together…
Never conflicting with one another, but rather complimenting each others color. Mixed together, they create something much more appealing than to separate them.
Without each other, they are lost.
Begging for the other side.
It’s being back in this place, the chill of winter and the bite of the evening that I’ve come to finally realize throughout a year of deep shifting…that those forces are to never be separated from one another again.
The walls I tore down opened the gates for those darker colors to come rushing in. They scared me initially, but as the months have gone on I’ve seen their place. They bring with them havoc, pain, and memories of suffering…but they aren’t to be ignored and forgotten.
They are to be cherished and mixed with everything that is beautiful in my life. They are to be poured into the lighter paints and part of a story that needs to be told.
I have been healing.
Healing those places that tremble, the thoughts that shake, and the moments that baffle me. I’ve been letting all of these things cover the canvas and to pour out their truths. I’m having full conversations with the things that are what make my life my life…without ever uttering a word.
Simply seeing what comes out in front of me. Understanding the chills that run up my spine as the music skips my ears and sends its notes straight into my heart.
There are no walls. No barriers. No manipulation of what “should” come my way. I’m standing here naked, vulnerable, and have deconstructed what has ever protected me that scared and shallow mind of a young young boy created all those years ago.
I’ve shattered those old ways…leaving myself open to everything.
And since I sit in that moment…
Anything can happen.
Anything has happened.
And I’ve let the will of the heavens have their way with my path. Never to question why…but nodding in agreement saying, “I needed that. You’re teaching me. Whatever else you want to throw my way, I accept.”
Open. Aware. Healing. Arriving.
I’m back to that wintery place that I call home.