And I tripped and fell in love….

This morning as I searched for words to feed my soul, I came across the sweet perfection of Joan Miro and her thoughts on two of my favorite things. Paint and words.

Her words tasted so sweet, filled the void and sparked a creative place I sought to satisfy. Twice in the last few days I have been diving deeply into my writing and lost what I was working on. I think that my words weren’t supposed to make it here…that I am capable of more, of something greater.

I have often entertained the idea of writing a piece based on a painting or painter I know, or even a friend who is a photographer and has captured something that sits with my soul. Something I can’t let go of. A story I need to tell or a poem that is seeking to escape the corridors of my mind.

Paint and poetry….black and white, full of brilliant color and life. I resonate with people I know who paint and who write. Art…it lights and fuels the creative fire. I think people light people up that way. Joan’s words sent me spinning…not able to think, see or do anything for some time after letting them settle in and absorbing the full-scale of what they created within my written mind.

I felt the love story of the Painter and the Poet, their love affair

The two people who create from damaged places and never cross paths

The two who find each other after many lifetimes of waiting and light the world on fire with their art and words

The mother and daughter….the times she cherishes that are no longer here. She holds those moments in her heart.

Friends who bond over rose tea and write about life and love

The way the paint feels on my skin and looks on my clothes when I am done

The words that tell a story. If I close my eyes I can remember the moment I picked up a brush and how it felt.

The words.

The.

Words.

THE WORDS.

The words….

I can tell you about the poem I wrote for him and how it will never mean as much to him as it does to me. The poem I wrote for two mothers, for a best friend, for a life that is no longer here, for a love that I crave….I can tell you the moments that led me to my words. How people lifted me up, destroyed me and taught me the most valuable lessons I have ever learned.

Can you paint me a picture? It will give life to my words.

Paint your life….Write your life…but more importantly love your life. Create your life. Whatever your modality is dive so deeply into it that when you surface you are satisfied in a way that fills you up so completely.

So there it is….my words

Peace for this Sunday in your life…and for every day ❤

 

Him…

 

I have read this quote over and over and I want home like this….

Not an actual dwelling to live in, but a person that feels like this

Someone I can show my weaknesses to and not feel shame for it

Someone who will accept every vulnerable and strong part of who I am

Someone to run wild with

Someone who doesn’t tame me, but encourages me

Someone I can return this too

Someone to rest my soul with

To seek new places and people with

Someone to love and feel loved in return

A forever kind of love

A forever kind of home

 

(I am editing and updating many of these that have been stored in my draft folder…I am opening the cage doors)

 

 

Solace in Words

Words are the only place I can find solace.

When my heart hurts, when life is hard and yes, even when its the best. This is the only place I know to come. They save me from certain destruction…they also celebrate my greatest joys with me.

I am lost lately. I seek to feed my soul and this is the only way I know how, yet recently it isn’t enough. I know when things aren’t right in my life, intuition, and lately I chose to ignore it, only for it to come to light later. I know that I should listen when something tells me there is more to what is before me. You see I have always listened to the words that aren’t spoken and I pay very careful attention to those around me. More often than not they think that I am naive to the situation but I am not. Thus hurt feelings and second guessing my worth to those individuals. Enough? Imagine that…..

Sleepless nights turn into drug out days…random tears, fake smiles. It’s so easy to hide in front of people. When I am alone at night my demons come out to play. They put in my face everything I have put off, everything I hide. I have a habit of seeking temporary happiness in material items. Things that aren’t necessary. Then comes guilt and shame. It’s not often that I do this because I have a tendency to take better care of those around than taking care of myself. It’s just easier.

So here I am…functioning on maybe three hours of sleep, knowing something is off right now….and waiting for it to show up.