This painting is available HERE
I have felt angry for weeks, maybe even months. An anger burning right below the surface of my skin. I have vibrated with this anger. I was an angry warrior. I went from hearing “it’s nothing” to hearing “mastectomy” in a matter of 6 months, and I was pissed.
The other day when they finally gave me the surgery date, that anger disappeared and was replaced with sadness. I feel sad. My heart is so tender right now and my tears flow easily. I am now the tender and sad warrior, I wear my heart on the outside of my skin. I feel raw with emotions.
To be honest, I prefer this feeling of sadness. Anger is such a difficult emotion. It is so violent and irrational, so toxic. It made me crazy, like I wanted to escape my own self. Run away from my own mind. I felt out of control. I feel more myself than I have for awhile. I have always been a melancholy sort of person so this is much closer to normal to me and it also allows me to feel grateful. I am grateful because this is not a death sentence. I am one of the lucky ones. I know that. I am allowing myself to feel the tender sadness of knowing my life has been changed. I am different now and I don’t know if I will ever be the same again. My sadness is allowing me to find bravery that comes from kindness and peace, not a bravery that comes from anger and fear. I have moved forward in my journey and although I know I have a long road ahead of me, I feel more at peace then I have in a very long time. I am embracing my tender warrior and thanking her for giving me a little bit of my self back.
“The ideal of warriorship is that the warrior should be sad and tender, and because of that, the warrior can be very brave as well.”
― Chögyam Trungpa
Another painting from my new series “Too Small, Too Young”.
Undecided, 15.5 “x 20”, mixed media painting on wood stretcher.
This series is about being a child now, looking back and/or remembering being a child and also about being an adult/parent watching your child grow up. It is bitter sweet to say the least.
Sometimes I find myself looking at my children and feeling unbearably sad. I know that this sounds crazy but it is because I am not really looking at them right now, instead I am thinking about how much smaller they were not so long ago or how soon they are going to be all grown and leaving me. Awful I know, but it is the truth. I think about how far away my own childhood seems now, how foggy my memories are. How young my parents were.
In many ways, these are timeless paintings. They live neither in or out doors but exist simultaneously in both. If as though, our memories can be in some other plain all together, existing in our mind but also in this place that shifts back and forth, in and out of focus. Often hard for us to grasp completely, save a snippet here, a smidgen there.
I guess in these works I am trying to capture childhood, mine and my children’s and to somehow hold onto it for a little bit longer. If I can’t manage it in real life, perhaps painting it will help me remember to think less and be more.