It’s been a while since I touched the canvas, but it’s just like touching a long lost lover. The strokes are familiar. There is no distance which fate cannot collapse in a breath of union.
When I was on the massage table last week, the man leaned into my lower back, “There is an issue in your sacral.”, he said gently as he pressed his fingers into my muscles. I felt it. The pain made my lungs expand. “Breathe.”, he instructed.
The sacral energy is sexual and/or creative. I’m knee deep in one of the biggest projects of my life. It doesn’t leave much time for art. You could say this restaurant is my art, but it’s nothing like the paints.
On top of that, I’ve taken a vow of celibacy for the sake of clearing my energy field. Needless to say, I wasn’t surprised when the massage therapist felt the pain deep in my sacral. I feel it too— The Yearning of the fast.
It’s time to paint.
This morning, I squeezed a large amount of raw umber out onto my stained pallet. Once it was mixed with enough titanium white, I dipped my brush and tapped the canvas as if I was asking for permission. “Do you miss the way I feel?”, a question only the most intimate lover would evoke.
Silence filled the room as the Union ignited. Some call this flow.
I worked until I felt satiated. Then I brought my tools to the sink for a baptism of sorts.
I don’t usually clean my pallet when I’m building a piece, but today I decided to.
When the water was rushing over years of dried color, I felt their stories. The pieces hanging in medical offices, restaurants and homes were there with me in this moment. I placed my hand on the pallet, slowly loosening the paints. I caressed it as the new colors ran into the sink. With my eyes closed, I bathed in the internal satisfaction of feeling your own soul in color.
As I sit here reflecting, writing to you, I am filled with gratitude.
This life is so abstract, like the art. It’s a love affair with waves of internal earth, wind, water and fire.
We yearn. We are relieved. We celebrate and mourn. As I stroke the canvas, I never know what my spirit will bring forth. As I walk this path, I never know what God has in store. But I paint. I walk. I don’t have to know. I just have to listen and move.
“Go and See!”, I hear in my gypsy spirit. And I’m a believer that The Bible is still being written in the living word of our life story. “If Ruth and Hannah made space in history, then maybe you can too.”, I hear. If Abraham could go and see then maybe we can too.
The word that never leaves our heart is our sacred message to the world.
Mine will forever be, “Go and see!”
I’ll trust the canvas of life to write its own story as I listen to the energy of Union call me forth.
With the Deepest Love,
Paige Elliott
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