New Strokes, Old Brushes

I painted for the first time today since the August art show. It was different, difficult more than ease: Part of it is the language of art…you don’t use it, you lose it. Creativity needs to once again flow freely in thought, in inspiration and joy without the distress of the meager blending details of perfection in abstract strokes. But it was there, as if the beauty of blended colors was a loss in vision as well. I still see color, but in different hues. In the right eye it has all but faded in the shadows–it is only when colors, already bold, are in certain lighting that it is vibrant neon color and I say, “Now that is blue!” It makes shopping at Wal Mart and Target a color game.

It’s safe to say that the eye changes didn’t alter how messy I get when painting..at least there was one consistent factor. I even got paint on my walker handles; such normality in the routine! As I went to scrub off my color-coated hands, I thought about the day when I did my first painting for Dad’s birthday. Music was beginning to fade and I was angry. I felt a void–but in that first painting, I felt the joy like music. Today as soap foamed in the sink, I asked myself if I would be ready for the day when painting too fades like music. Would I recognize the next joy God may bring my way? Right now, I am not sure as it was just a momentary thought. I don’t think it is something to dwell on, but I also don’t think I should ignore it either; it is something to remind myself to cherish–brush each stroke with joy knowing that it is a gift given to me in a time of need and by sharing the gift, I share the same hope and joy to others.

I wanna sing.
I wanna fly.
I wanna see from Your side of the sky.
I wanna love.
I wanna stay,
Wanna be close to You
Long after the music fades.

Shaun Groves. “After the Music Fades.”