Yesterday I took our little Lucy cat in to be euthanized. Needless to say yesterday just sucked.
Previously I had made plans for the evening to go into town and spend time with a group of artists, creating, talking and sharing. A new venture for me, something totally out of my comfort zone. I was pretty down in the dumps and really did not want to go spend time talking with people who I did not know, sharing my private art thoughts. I just wanted to stay home and drink some wine and feel sorry for myself.
However, I made myself go. I did not know what to take with me, who would be there, what was going to happen – or who I had to pretend to be happy to see.
As it turned out – and I like to think that it was meant to be this way, because things just have a way of working out the way they were meant to. There were only two other people there, the hostess/teacher for the evening and another woman. It allowed us a little more freedom to talk more intimately and for me, since I was so uncomfortable about the whole thing, it gave me a sense of being okay. I just don’t do well with crowds.
I was able to take place in some art therapy by means of working on a mandala, by the way I had never heard of such a process.
Earlier the teacher had asked if I wanted to work on my own projects that I had brought or did I want to learn something new. I wanted to work on something new. I wanted her to teach me how to paint – something I have never done.
As the evening progressed, we kept getting side tracked and one discussion led to another and work didn’t go as planed.
Eventually it was decided that some art therapy might be a good thing for me. I was going to learn about creating a mandala . I was interested in this, except for the part about the teacher reading my mandala and explaining her interpretation as to what the hidden meanings I had created meant.
I was completely out of my element and as she told me to apply water to my canvas, before the paints. I had a thousand thoughts running through my head. I was told to paint what-ever came to mind.
Not one single idea would go from my brain to my paint brush. This is so typical of what I have been feeling for weeks now. Part of me really wanted to just scream, throw the paint brush down and run out the door.
I finally put my first brush stroke to the canvas and instead of it getting easier, each stroke was more difficult. The end result seemed to me to be completely childish, simplistic and totally lacking of any creative sense.
Again, with the throwing the paint brush down and running out the door screaming.
I didn’t do it.
The evening was completely rewarding and inspirational and made my mind come back to creative thoughts.
During the ride home, Charles said I was so quiet, he could just hear my mind racing with ideas.
Not true, I was tired, my head hurt so bad and I was back to thinking about poor dead Lucy.
When I went to bed the room was so empty without Lucy.
I slept very soundly for the first time in a while – Lucy had been keeping me up at night, but I woke up still very tired.
Today, I want to take care of things that need to be taken care of so that I can have some time creating.
Maybe I’ll paint a picture of Lucy.
Until next time,