Gosh. Time passes SO slowly when you’re not well, doesn’t it? The last month I’ve been fighting a bacterial infection. Control over bad thoughts, cohesive speech (and thus the blog), went out the window.
Somehow painting didn’t, though. Painting is so integrated as part of my wellbeing now that I can’t go too long without it. I haven’t had much energy, so I’ve focused on small tasks, mostly finishing up nearly-done paintings. It’s allowed me to review themes that are occurring in my work. Whales have been relentless.
Considering the layers underneath–the history of the picture–was interesting, too. If a whale hijacked what was a picture of a tiger, I know I should pay attention (not quite adding the highlights to an eye, hmm?). A forest turned into a whale, too. And a still life of vegetables. Eh? What are the whales telling me? Those elegant, calm beasts suspended in the dark corners of the earth have something to say, it seems.
You can get carried away with metaphors, of course, but there is something about whales that signifies a dive into consciousness. Perhaps the underwater metaphors are a hangover from David Lynch’s Catching the Big Fish, which I read at a time meditation was really starting to work for me. Lynch taught me to fall well, to go deeper, to not be afraid of the darkest corners.
Here’s something like-minded that’s singing to me this week. Learning from the dark places. Diving into the sadness, when it comes. Letting it open us to bigger things, teach us our stories.