Around Thanksgiving of last year, something shifted within me and I’m ashamed to say it wasn’t gratitude.
My mind was wrestling with anxiety from the pressure of finishing my latest book, Seaglass Christmas, and I was determined to get it into the hands of the public by December 1.
That didn’t happen.
Day and night, I worked on the book, unwilling to give it up to the Universe until it was my idea of perfect. After I finally hit the "Upload" button on Amazon on December 6, the last two fingers of my left hand responded with a tingling sensation, as if I had smashed them in a door or something. I would soon learn that I had developed Ulnar Neuropathy, most likely due to prolonged computer use.
I "sleepwalked" through the holidays, trying to allow myself to enjoy the colored lights and music, but I wasn't in a festive mood. Nothing had gone as planned in 2019. I still had major health issues. I still wasn’t getting book reviews. And every time I turned on the television, I was assaulted by a barrage of half-truths and inhumane atrocities towards my fellow human beings.
Nobody had died, but I knew in my heart I was grieving. I was grieving the loss of my physical and mental self, devoured by a world I no longer respected nor recognized.
Negativity clung to me like a second skin and I wanted to scream, cry, and run away, but I did none of those things. And it wasn't that I didn't have plenty of color tools to turn to, like my color therapy glasses, tuning forks, etc. But I had no interest in them. I just sat and waited, as if expecting a Freedom Train to arrive any minute to whisk me away to Happyland.
There was no train, but I did discover a surprising rescuer the day I stumbled upon Daria DiCieli's wonderful Meditative Watercolor channel on YouTube.
I hadn’t played with watercolors since I was a child. I remembered the process as extremely messy with me dipping my paintbrush into small round pots of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet, and then dripping the colors onto my favorite coloring book. Watercolor painting used to make me smile and Lord knows I needed to smile again, so I thought it was worth a try.
The goal of the first session was to express how I felt. After setting up my space with crystals and salt lamps to evoke a peaceful mood, I painted my paper with blue, purple, and yellow lines. When I stepped back to look at my creation, I interpreted it as my desire to communicate, to express my spirituality.
In the next session, I was to release my feelings of not being good enough. That developed into a painting marked with angry black, red, and green strokes. But the curious thing about this painting was the pink image that emerged after those first three colors. It reminded me of a pink angel carrying a huge pink heart!
With each meditation, I felt lighter, hopeful, more at peace than I could remember. I wasn't striving to paint any particular image, just trying to reconnect my Life dots with the energy of the colors and the water, washing away my worries and doubts.
For over a month, I have painted at least one abstract as my daily meditation. Whenever I’m feeling bothered or anxious, I return to my watercolors as if they were my prescribed medication and I feel like I have shifted. I have reset my vibrations.
One day I will paint real objects like trees and flowers. Until then, I am content to go with the watercolor flow, knowing that no matter what Life throws at me, I will shine my Light to help others find their way through the darkness, too!
Did you know that I've had an entire lifetime of colorful experiences? Click here to order my book, Mad About Hue: A Memoir in Living Color!