Painting into the Shadows.... My Heart Chakra

I knew when I went to paint this painting it was going to be a challenging experience.  My heart had been through much sadness recently.  I went, struggling, uncertain I wanted to do this, and breathing deeply.

I put the paper up on the wall.  Four panels taped together into a rectangle.  Empty.  White.  Ready for me to engage.  I stood there.  I just stood there staring at that paper, breathing deeply.  Sadness filling my heart.  Whispering to myself, “F@^k!”  I felt frozen in time, frozen in space, frozen in place.  I walked back and forth from my paper to the paint and back with no paint.  Numerous times.  Breathing and summoning the courage to take the plunge into the Shadows of my heart.

One last time, I stood.  I remember making the decision.  Saying F@^k!  Picking up the entire black pump container of paint and setting it down in front of my paper.  Pushing that pump down and catching that black paint with my hand., slapping it on the paper.  Again and again and again forming a huge black circle of thick paint.  I felt it squish between my fingers as I added it, spread it, ran my hand through it, engaged it.

I began to add silver and grey to lighten the circle.  Rubbing it in, giving depth to the black Shadow of my Soul.  Then, for some reason, I added a greenish tinted white heart in the center of the circle.  I surrounded that heart with a yellowish white heart.  I did it delicately, tenderly, lovingly.  It was like my Light self was trying to break forth from the Shadow.  I cherished that moment, that breathe, that pause, that reminder that this Shadow, this darkness, this sadness is not forever.  The Light always shines through.

And yet, I was not done with the darkness.  I had to dive deeper into that pain, into that anger, into my broken-heart.  So I took my fingers and swiped them through those beautiful hearts cutting them in half.  I did it again and again, anger rising within me.  I added red to make it more vibrant -- more REAL.  

That made it a little too real.  I stepped back.  Sat or fell to the ground...and stared trying to push that anger back down inside me.  I hate feeling angry.  It scares me.  When my teacher joined me and asked what was happening, all I could reply was I’m angry.  Her reply threw me, “Well, it’s about time.”  Huh....  It was about time the anger rose, really unleashed itself.  

I have noticed this happens to me when I paint or play or create.  I get into the flow of the energy.  I follow it.  I dance with it.  I enjoy it.  I lose myself in it.  I begin to forget where I am, what I’m doing.  And then, out of nowhere, something emerges, bubbles up from the depth of my Shadow self and I realize that I had let me guard down to myself.  Somehow, this painting experience continually invites me to let down my internal guard between my Shadow self and my Holy Light self.  It is sacred.  It is scary.  And this time, it was anger.  Anger bubbled up.  Anger overwhelmed me.  Anger wanted a way out.  Anger demanded that I release it from my Shadow, that I let go, that I get it out of my body, out of my heart, out of my Soul.

And that is what I did.  

I beat the crap out of my painting!!  I put blue in my hand and slapped it hard against that paper, again and again and again.  Sometimes it was a hand slap.  Other times is was full fisted.  I beat that painting until it fell off the wall.  I actually had to stop and reattach it to the wall.  It felt good.  It was quite the release.  The anger poured out of me and onto that painting.

And when I was spent, I began smoothing the paint around covering all the white, blending it into the blackness of my Shadow and receiving the invitation once more to “go there”  -- to go back into the Shadow, into the blackness.  I resisted at first.  I decided that black glitter would have the darkening effect that I felt was needed.  So I emptied an entire bottle of black glitter and all that happened was that the painting glittered.

I laugh at myself and how I can talk myself into ignoring the Shadow, into keeping it at bay.  But this painting was not an invitation to keep it at bay.  This was an invitation to go there.  So I went.  I slapped more black on over the blue.  I worked it in, darkening the blue.  I slapped yellow on the black in one area working it together.  Purple at the bottom.  I kept going between dark and light -- marrying the two together.  Bouncing back and forth.  Working into the shadow waiting for that moment when hope would arise again.

And it did.  The last three strokes of my painting to be precise.  I grabbed the brightest green I could find.  I gently added a small circle of bright green at the center of the circle.  I did not attempt to work it in.  It felt like it needed to stand apart, to stand on its own.  It was complete. 

My heart of my heart showed itself.  Only for a moment, but that was a Sacred Holy moment.  Amidst the anger and pain and woundedness, it appeared.  It said, “Don’t worry, I’m here.  I’m here when you’re raging.  I’m here in your tears.  I’m here in your fear.  I’m here at the center brightening, opening, healing your heart.”  Holy Sacred Moment. 

That is why I paint.  I paint for those Holy Sacred Moments and I allow their blessings to fill me up with love and compassion for myself, for others, and for the Holy.