I have a sacred voice and so do you.
One of my favorite things about the beautiful, peaceful place I live is that in the mornings, I can wake up, walk outside while the sun’s coming up, hear only birds singing, catch the dewy scent of the air and breath in. The rest of humanity is busy elsewhere. Here, it’s like a small paradise, one that fills me up as I stretch my arms up to the sky and release. After that, I’m ready to walk to the kitchen and start kneading the bread dough and slicing fruit. Those few peaceful moments in the morning, when I’m alone, set my state of balance for the day. I listen to myself during those moments, what my body is telling me, if I’ll need to rest later on, if it might be a good day to write or make glazes or paint, or maybe handle the paperwork that tends to accumulate in a little basket next to my work table.
I love the peace so much that I put a chair in my kitchen garden where I can sit for short periods during the day and renew my energy.
I spent years, too many of them, telling people what they wanted to hear and telling myself what I needed to be. There’s something very injuring, long term, about doing that. Not understanding who we are or what we want and instead going along and taking on other people’s ideas about us is like trying to fit into shoes that are a size too small. You can do it for awhile, but there’ll come a point in time that you can’t take one more step, no matter how much you want to or feel you have to.
Walking our own path is scary and full, FULL of resistance. Our heads are full of other people’s voices, some well meaning, others not so much. Even when we want to be creative and renewed, we hear all of those silly little scratches over and over.
Why would you want to do that?
Oh, heavens, everything’s already been painted, sculpted, counter cross stitched, written. Why bother?
Why would anyone ever want to have anything that you made anyway?
I’m here to say to you that you have a voice. And that voice is clear, sacred and beautiful. It’s full of complex melodies, irony, sadness, hope, funniness, conflict and anger. It’s an individual rose so special and so unique that you are the only one that can give your voice the air it needs to be heard. Follow your voice, despite the fact that it’s been drowned out by second guessing and other people’s stuff. It’s your voice, after all, not theirs.
my little house paintings with one of my french blue stoneware bowls
My voice has been telling me to rest. I’ve worked hard the last few months, and I need to recuperate. Doing restoration work on the property, topped off with being fully booked for a straight month and finishing Your Truth, the Ebook have all taken their toll. The need to rest comes at a time when I am full of ideas to the point of bursting. But I know if I don’t heed the voice, and step into a bit of relaxation, I’ll burn out. And the cost of burning out creatively is way too high because it takes away from the future.
But I don’t relax just by sitting in a chair in the garden, at least not always. For me, painting has always been a tool of regeneration. So last week, I started painting after taking a couple of years off from the craft. I love to paint abstract images of houses – because home is one of the most important themes in my life. Painting houses always leaves me feeling grounded, in a place where I can go deeper and explore my own sense of home and what it means to me personally. I love to paint, and I forgot about that, until I listened to my own voice calling me away from my computer and into my studio.
