Yesterday I spoke to a wonderful woman who invited me to create art with children facing some vulnerabilities. I promised to journal about my process and went in search of an empty sketchbook to begin writing.
I found so much more than I bargained for.
My search took me to the basement as I looked through a number of half used sketchbooks and then found one that had just a few entries. Entries that I thought could be removed so I could begin writing about how art got me through my tumultuous childhood.
With writing & drawings on only about 7 pages, I thought this one was perfect…and I discovered it truly was perfect, once I began reading.
This sketchbook was my writings the day after my mom passed away nearly 3 years ago and also included a few quick sketches that expressed my feelings beyond what I could write.
I had such mixed feelings for my mom—I loved her and yet she had caused me a lot of pain…Probably because most of her life she was in a lot of pain. In her later years, she was mired in the fog of dementia and so much was left unsaid and unresolved.
As I read my words, some tears came.
And in the midst of this discovery, glanced at the calendar and saw…today is my mother’s birthday.
A floodgate of tears were followed by sobs—I felt my mother’s presence.
How else could I explain this discovery in such an obscure and poignant way. I wish to share with you some of this very primal writing I did that day after my mom died.
It drives me in my life and in my art. Synchronicity abounds, if you are open to letting the gentle strokes of the universe come into you presence. I believe gentle souls dance among us and whisper to us in the most unexpected times in the most unexpected ways.
So in the spirit of vulnerability that has become me and is in my art, several of these pages that came to me today: