This is it, here and now. The moment, the perfect storm. The colossal eruption of colour that spews onto the canvas of life. This is SUPER NOVA.
Days, weeks, months, years have been leading up to this. How long has it been now? 13 years since my last destruction.
How can I move forward without first resolving the past? Why does this still go on? Why haven’t I been able to resolve this? Why am I still in this ongoing battle with an adversary that I cannot see? Have I learnt anything from the last incursion? How much will it take from me?
As I face my demon, face to invisible face, it drags me, rolls me, churns me up over and over. The depth and darkness multiplies each time as it digs deeper into my unknown. I try to face it all as I dive deeper and deeper into nothingness. One last final quick breath as I am quickly immersed in this piece, this moment, this….well I do not know any more.
Maybe this is it. That sweet spot. You know the calm after the storm, those blue sunny skies are coming my way! Who knows. All I feel is whipped, ragged and in the wilderness of my mind, alone, desolate, as my body aches, I no longer feel. My brain is splintered from the shrapnel of life. I no longer know this person. Who am I? I have no idea.
The only thing I do know is that this is exactly where I need to be to expand and to rise up in the middle of this heaving storm. So, I continue to sit. Steadfast as I am lost to all, yet still I sit. Waiting…
It continues to pulse, distorting me, tearing all that I once was and knew. Pulverising me to no more than just my essence. SPIRIT…
Tears flow, as the swell of emotions rises up, anger erupts, chaos and frustration sets in. Paint is thrown, wasted, with disregard. Trying to patch the leaking boat with a roll of band-aids. Time is wasted. I need sleep. Though I still go on into the nothing. How many times will this painting need to be completed? When does this stop? Why won’t it let me go? Tomorrow will only find me back in the studio to restart this whole process again. Why am I on this journey? My own internal combusting Groundhog Day.
Everything has been lost….
Or has it?
All I see now is a canvas full of mud. But again, am I still here? Where is this creative force I once knew? Where are you now? I scrape the day’s work off the canvas. Back to the bear bones of it’s essence. Each scrape of paint cuts me deep. The ego destroyed, the mind and body numb. No colour just mud. Connection LOST.
And just like that, the intensity and pressure drops. Is the storm passing? I feel it, you know the energy shift. That pressure valve released. I have held fast for so long through this storm. I try to release my grip on the final threads of what once was. It has been so long that I find it hard to even move. Stiff and sore, there are signs of wear, cracks and a life lived.
Through those cracks there is a new light appearing.
Exploding onto the canvas a new light, a new energy, a beacon of hope. The richness of life, the emergence of colour from strength to strength. This is where you will find my vulnerability and dedication to my creativity. This is where I overcome all odds, walls that I or others put in front of me.
Without darkness there is no light…