i spent saturday with more than a dozen of my spirit grandmothers. these women acutely, directly nurture my soul. they love me without reason. they celebrate my presence. they assume that i am much younger than my years. they don’t believe me when i tell them my age. it doesn’t matter. i am much younger than they are. they are much wiser than i am. i show up, pay attention, and learn. they show up, share, and listen. we journey forward together. every year in january we meet in order to receive our vision for the next twelve months. my vision for this year is healing. my list to heal begins with my mind and its false beliefs, my body and its chronic auto-immune attacks, my heart and its hate-hurt-anger-resentment, my soul and its losses.
saturday’s vision meeting with the grandmothers arrived the morning after friday night’s non-anniversary that i did not celebrate with my wife. i didn’t go out that night. i’d intended to go dancing and celebrate another’s birthday. instead i fought with someone who loves me. i fought to distract from the pain. i fought to avoid feeling the ever-present hurt. i fought because i’m angry and afraid and i couldn’t express myself well. i fought most of the night. i cried. i slept a couple hours. i drove half an hour northeast to sit in a circle of grandmothers and receive a vision of healing.
since saturday, i’ve painted. every few hours, i see a new vision of healing, a new swirl of colors. i paint these visions onto canvases. i keep painting. i don’t stop. i paint over what i’ve painted. i keep going. i don’t stop. i wash and blot paint away. i add more paint. then i add more paint. i wash and blot paint away. i add more paint. i don’t stop. i keep painting. the message of these paintings is to keep going. don’t stop. add love. wash away the mistakes. add love. blot, blend, and soften what doesn’t work. add more love. add more color. keep painting. keep healing. don’t stop.