Sunday, September 25, 2011

Art: Morning Glory


I place the paint brush on the palette and I breathe.  The adrenaline of completion overcomes me.  I blink. When my eyes open, I can see nothing clearly.  I look around, everything is distorted and blurred. I flex my face and blink a dozen more times, nothing changes.   Each blink is shocking, almost painful, because I realize that I exchanged blinking for the dance of brush strokes. Artist eyes.

I bring my espresso up to my face.  I inhale the aroma, my eyes shut again.  A long pause.  Then world around me is a million blurred dashes. The only thing I see clearly is my painting.   I get lost in the colors, the shadows, and every nook.    A presence surges through me,  I am still.  The greatest force, the most astonishing beauty, the one from whom creativity flows.  Here with me.

This is how I worship.

Every stroke, a praise.

Every smudge, a prayer.

This is how I connect.


This place I’ve painted out of my heart, translated onto canvas, I’m certain that I’ll see it one day. And when I stand on the cliff, adorned with wild flowers and look out upon the sun rising over the speckled see,  I’ll know.

Buy it here.

1 comment:

Here's the thing: I love your comments.
So thank you.

Have a lovely day.
Drink some coffee.