Well. Hmmmm. Something different happened with today's painting. It's quite possible that it won't be apparent to anyone but me. And in describing it I may come off sounding loony.
Well. That won't be anything new.
I mostly use words to find my way through this life. Thought words. Spoken words. Written words. Clear words. Clumsy words. You get my drift. My tools of exploration and explanation have been words.
Earlier today, I used spoken words, quite haltingly at times, to attempt to explain something to someone else. The ideas were important to me. The person was important to me. I had no idea whether or not "communication" had been achieved. Plans were made to get together again, a few hours later. We did, but due to unforeseen complications,
the time together did not go at all as planned.
Normally I would turn to my journal and use written words to process the "events." Tonight however, something in me just said "no." I started today's painting instead, with absolutely no conscious intent other than to have no intent. As far as I knew, I just picked up the nearest brush and let instinct guide me to the paint and the waiting page. Over the next hour or so, on breaks from watching something on my laptop, I laid color on the page. Still, no conscious decisions as to shapes or colors or placements. But somewhere deep inside my thoughts, I could tell I was "talking." Only no words or sounds were used.
At some point, I "knew" to paint the different circles, and then stop when I had 5.
Toward the end, I "knew" to leave three spaces white.
Then the final step: I picked up a rigger and dipped it in carbon black and "wrote." When I stopped, there on the page were 7 "messages." They made me goosebumpy. I have no idea what they "mean." And yes, I realize this may all sound really woo-woooooo . . . but as I stared at the "messages," I got this incredibly primal assurance that I DO know, at the deepest level, that my life is good and is on track and that I am right where I am meant to be. On the surface of my daily life, I don't have a clue. I wonder every day what in the heck I'm doing and why. But these "messages" tell me that underneath, I DO understand. I DO know. I don't know WHAT it is that I know, but now I know that I know.
I'm pretty dumbfounded at the moment. I never imagined I could find a language for expression that worked as well as words did. But these 46 days of painting have led me into another whole world. It is very very unfamiliar. But I think I'm too happy to be scared.