Sometimes when I paint I step into the greatest space of stillness.
Life melts away.
Literally.
And I fill everything with color.
Sometimes when I'm there, I look to see it's really a great field.
The same one I played in when I was a child.
Where my grandmother was always busy hanging clothes on the line.
Where you could hear the tomatoes growing in the garden.
I refuse to leave this space.
I'll be like Frida Kahlo instead.
Where the paintbrush never leaves my hand.
5 comments:
Oh, how I love that feeling of being in the flow/in the zone, when time just flies because you're so in touch with who you are and what you came here to do!
I guess I could learn to call you Frida, sure why not, after all I use a pen name too
;-)
Sometimes I want to devour color, carry buckets of paint and words to throw upon all I see. Sometimes I step inside color to find my grandmother's soft pink nails and her green spirament leaves - the ones she'd eat while devouring a book. Sometimes I slip inside color...and my three year old suddenly splashes me with water and she laughs ...a belly laugh and I realize there iis color inside and out ;)
Connie, I love when ya write. Ya make the words bring wonderful images in my mind. Keep seeking your hearts secrets as ya continue on this journey.
Hugs, Poe
so glad i found you and your site...you write beautifully.
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