7. The Gift

Having fed the body, my soul was now experiencing and thrill it hadn’t it a long time. The brushes and paints were an old friend. My hands felt clumsy, however, my strokes uneven, but the colors were bright, cheerful and my mood brightened with each stroke. Oberon finally decided to settle in for a nap in the afternoon sun, and give us some peace and quiet and I got carried away with the paints, the colors and texture of the canvas made my thoughts run wild. I forgot about what insecurities I thought I had, about how good or bad I thought I was at this “art” thing, I just did. It was like my hands were being guided and I let them go. Each stroke took me deeper into a meditative state, each stroke became easier, bolder and my confidence rose.  My mentor, the artist who gave me the paints, encouraged me further, “Here, take this book. Your creativity needs other outlets as well.  You have passion within that needs to be released, you have hidden too long.”  She handed me a small notebook, only about four inches wide and five inches long. It was a green leather bound book, with a Celtic cross on the cover. The swirls of the Celtic pattern spoke to my soul and there were blank pages inside, begging to be written upon. “I want you to begin to journal your thoughts and dreams, I want your thoughts to become reality.”

My satchel was becoming full of interesting artifacts, how did they all fit together? Perhaps now that I can journal I can piece the puzzle together.

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