On Mystery, Faith and Fairy-dust

I began my workshop by looking out at my group of eager, beautiful students, most of whom were more than slightly nervous about their first experience with painting, and … let out a big sigh.

I was exhausted.

And I wondered how many of them were too. It had been a tumultuous few weeks, ones where I came this close to losing my daughter. A severe bout of gastroenteritis on an already very compromised body and… well, let’s say, I’ve tended to several people as they lay on their death beds, and what I saw was horrifyingly familiar.

She pulled through, thankfully. But everything still remains challenging. On that particular morning, as I faced my students, I wondered about everyone else there. What were they bringing to the room? What dramas were they were leaving behind at home? What battles were they were facing in their private lives?

We carry so many unspoken, painful struggles.

So instead of welcoming them all with arms outstretched and a big grin on my face (as I’m usually genuinely overjoyed to be there with them), I quietly asked, “How many of you are experiencing some very tricky and painful situations in your personal lives right now?”

More than half of the group raised their hands.

A young couple kept their arms firmly by their side and shook their heads, looking puzzled. I don’t know if they were, but they seemed like newly-weds. I turned to them and said, “I’ve got news for you, it’s about to get a whole lot worse!”

Everyone laughed, and the moment passed. I explained what was going on at home, and how much I looked forward to making art together, leaving our complex lives behind, just for a day. How the kindness of a group, and being in community, and the magic of creativity all come together, time after time in these workshops, and create a kind of mysterious wellspring of energy that will flow over us all and … just for today … will be a force that is stronger than all of our pain and fears.

And it did.

***

The first time I ever taught in this studio, 14 years ago, my life was outwardly in tatters. My daughter was stable, but recovering from repeated long hospitalisations for what was to become an enduring, and at times life-threatening illness. My husband had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer and was on chemo and confined to a wheelchair. And I was suddenly thrust into the role of full-time carer AND sole breadwinner.

I remember one time getting home from the hospital at 5 am after an emergency run in the middle of the night, only to teach my class a few hours later. Those kinds of physically difficult scenarios notwithstanding, my art workshops were a spiritual and emotional lifeline for me. I came to know first-hand how powerful creativity is as a guiding light in the darkest of times.

And I experienced it again at that recent workshop. This time around, life was very different, but eerily the same. While Greg is no longer alive, our daughter is once again very unwell. If there ever was a time when I needed the combined forces of everyone’s creativity to come together and flow through our collective veins (cos that’s sort of what happens), it was now.

By the end of the day, we were tired and sweaty and probably a little OD-ed on chocolate, but the art-ing had done its thing. A beautiful tapestry of colour and texture was laid out on the floor, encircled by proud faces. I was so grateful for these beautiful people who had trusted me with their precious creative hearts, so tender and vulnerable.

I felt that familiar well of thankfulness and honour that I have been allowed to do this work for so long, in tiny groups adding up to many thousands of people, helping to birth more beauty and colour and magic into a world that is so often focused on anything but.

And I silently prayed that I get to keep doing this work forever, with gorgeous souls like these. No matter what. Perhaps I will, perhaps I won’t, who knows? But I’ll keep hoping, and you never know…

Remembering a great philosopher’s advice, “All it takes is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie dust.” (Peter Pan)

***
I think we all use our creativity to survive this life. For some it looks like cooking a great meal and sharing with others. I have a friend who knits the most gorgeous blankets and gives them away as gifts. A sister who transforms gardens, a niece who creates jewellery and designs wonderful things. I paint, work with clay, write, teach, and lately, renovate houses!

And what about you?

Perhaps using our creativity helps us, because it combines faith, trust, pixie dust and transformation. It results in the arrival of something new, something that simply didn’t exist before we made it.

I think that might be important.

“It is urgent to live enchanted.” – Valter Hugo Mae.

With love and hope,

PS Would you like to do a workshop with me in Perth, Western Australia? I have 3 spots left in the last one day intensive for beginners this season – on May 4^th. I’d love to fill this workshop, as it’s a breath of life for me in difficult times, and I believe it helps those who attend it to really unlock their creativity. Check it out here: PAINTING FOR BEGINNERS. (And if you want to come but simply can’t afford it, let me know. I don’t give discounts, but I do give away spots from time to time. It’s just good karma 🙂

PPS FINDING YOUR WAY HOME, the two day workshop is coming up in July. It’s not open for enrolment yet, but if you’d like early notification and the best price, let me know and I’ll put you on that list.

PPPS If you’ve received this post on email, you can reply by clicking here. I’d love to hear from you!