Friday, November 7, 2008

Climbing over the hump

I can get all of my studio rebuilt (which I have done).
I can get all of my canvases and paints and tools ready.
And then...there is the black hole...the void...the hump...the wall that I can't get past.
It sends me to do other chores, laundry, dishes, bills what ever, block me from actually sitting down and doing the act of painting. Of sitting down and actually applying the paint, stroke by stroke.

Miraculously, once I sit down and begin to apply paint, I begin to see the next step that the piece or painting must take. I could not see that step until I had begun the first step of the "journey". Until I engaged in the project. Then it unfolded to me. In the quietness of painting, my thoughts expand and contract and see in new ways, and there is peace and communion with Almighty God - this moment is where I am most myself, with as much of His presence as I can receive, comprehend or stand.

It occurs to me that this preparation, and subsequent block/wall to doing the actual sitting down and painting, is very similar to our relationship with God. We cannot see the whole picture, but when we settle ourselves down to do His way, or to seek Him, and NOT religion for it's own sake, that He reveals Himself and His plan step by step, in a way that each individual of us might receive, process and comprehend it.

I think painting is my meditation.
It is my devotional time, with the Creator of the Universe; the Creator of myself, as I am.
It is then that I realise, He is indeed fully pleased with me - even more - He not only loves me, He LIKES me.

And yet, there is this hump, wall or stumbling block that keeps me from sitting down and painting - engaging in that humble, naked moment before Him, in quietness, when I am only myself = which is not enough for the world, but is exactly enough for Him who has created me to be this way.

Monday, November 3, 2008

observation by Stu

So Stu said he noticed how dad never knocks on the door but just tried to wrestle it open and walk right in. He noticed that, if the door is locked, that my dad, instead of knocking, will stomp around on the porch and bang his cane down really hard on the porch to get our attention, but he refuses to knock.
Something about Stu's observation suddenly cracks me up, because it validated what I have been thinking: the old man is so dang controlling that he can't bring himself to even knock on the door, because to knock is too humbling an experience for him.

It makes me laff for a minute and feel like I am not the one who is crazy here.