I have a bunch of fresh canvas sitting in my loft/landing - a space upstairs that I like to think of as my art studio. Their presence there fills me with a sense of hardly contained excitement - an endless joy of possibilities - awaiting me. I move about my life, my duties, my daily chores in awareness of the fresh canvas - which are mine.
I also have an empty garden - that I have started filling up. Very much like the fresh canvas upstairs, an empty piece of land beckons, filling me with Gauguin gardens - tropical, wild, exuberant gardens of flowers, fruits, birds, bees. In sheer delight I cave in, digging, planting, playing in mud - drenched in fragrances of jasmine, neroli, damask rose already blossoming in my head.
And so it is with life. I am busy erasing history, past, habits - wiping my slate clean. This act of erasing, of walking away, of starting with a fresh canvas is already reviving, renewing, life-affirming, filled full with the joy of possibilities of 'what next?' How shall I paint my life, my day, this moment? The choice is endless. For the moment, I just hold my breath, waiting, before I choose.
I also have an empty garden - that I have started filling up. Very much like the fresh canvas upstairs, an empty piece of land beckons, filling me with Gauguin gardens - tropical, wild, exuberant gardens of flowers, fruits, birds, bees. In sheer delight I cave in, digging, planting, playing in mud - drenched in fragrances of jasmine, neroli, damask rose already blossoming in my head.
And so it is with life. I am busy erasing history, past, habits - wiping my slate clean. This act of erasing, of walking away, of starting with a fresh canvas is already reviving, renewing, life-affirming, filled full with the joy of possibilities of 'what next?' How shall I paint my life, my day, this moment? The choice is endless. For the moment, I just hold my breath, waiting, before I choose.
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