I laid on my back on the floor in my studio willing myself to feel different than I did. It happens, suddenly inertia descends, like a cloak draped over my head, falling to my feet. Despair settles in.
But I am fortunate, I can make myself move even though a part of me would rather not. And I know, for me, movement makes a difference. Walking usually works to shift my mood. And making art.
Jon and I spent the morning in Albany at the Bishop Maginn School. We brought some art books and Jon gave jeans and caps to Asher and his brother Issachar.
Blue was working on a painting of a woman. “She’s a rose”, Blue told me. The woman grew out of a dress shaped like rose petals and roses surrounded her, floating on her hair, covering her face.
Blue was having a difficult day, so she painted a rose woman with a moon on her forehead. She told me that painting makes her feel better.
I pushed myself up from the floor and sorted through the silk embroideries that I’ve been using to make pillows. Last night I tried for over an hour to create a pillow around a silk embroidered owl and couldn’t find the right colors.
Now I put the owl aside and looked thought the embroideries till I saw the hummingbird. I didn’t think about it long, I just trusted whatever it was that made me pause when I saw the bird.
And as I looked at it, thinking of what colors I’d use, I remembered Blue’s painting. The pinks and reds that helped bring her to a better place.
I went through my fabric, found the pinks and red that I thought would work together and got to work.
And as I focused on my work, it started to work on me, lifting my mood. Each piece of fabric leading me, like stepping-stones, to a lighter place.