A Focused Journey: Finding a focus on the other side of 50.

I believe everyone’s life has a purpose. We are here to discover that purpose then use whatever gifts were bestowed upon us to make this world a better place. Some of us are fortunate as we know at an early age what that purpose is. Others, well, we go along, often digressing from the road that will take us there. This is me. Now on the other side of 50, I am finding my way back to that road that will lead to my life’s purpose. Welcome to my journey.

Monday, June 19, 2017

Get up. Get dressed. Paint.: Needing a day to paint

After a weekend full of cleaning, gardening, shopping, and cooking in preparation for a Father's Day family gathering, I needed a day to paint. I looked to my Inspiring Art Journal Pages Pinterest board to get my creative juices flowing. This post, Art Journaling: Art Without Rules by Daisy Yellow was exactly what I needed. I pulled some magazine images from my stash and several of my go-to paint colors and began. Quieting my mind was difficult at first but having New Age Ambient Radio playing in the background tamed the chatter.

The aftermath...

Exactly what I needed to get the week started.

Joining in at Microblog Mondays

2 comments:

UnknownJune 19, 2017 at 4:06 PM
It's funny how we try to quiet our minds but I'll bet once you started painting all was quiet. I tell my husband all the time that when artists "do their art", you get into that quiet space where you're magically no longer tired, sick, hot, cold... there's just peace. Thanks for sharing!
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LindaJune 20, 2017 at 5:51 AM
This is so wonderful... love your creation. I see in your bio up there you're a teacher like me! I do this blogging and creating thing on the side as well. But, now I'm past 50, I find myself (like you), craving more creating time and less of the day to day overwhelm from the 'real' world. That Mary Oliver quotes is one of my absolute favourites. I'm a big proponent of practising gratitude, and that quote is gratitude in a nutshell! Very pleased to have found your wonderful online space via Microblog Mondays! Linda.
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Thank you so much for stopping by. Please share your insights.

THE JOURNEY

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could

The Dark Night Of The Soul
By Saint John of the Cross
Translated by A.Z. Foreman

Songs of the soul rejoicing at having achieved the high state of perfection, the Union with God, by way of spiritual negation.

Once in the dark of night,
Inflamed with love and wanting, I arose
(O coming of delight!)
And went, as no one knows,
When all my house lay long in deep repose

All in the dark went right,
Down secret steps, disguised in other clothes,
(O coming of delight!)
In dark when no one knows,
When all my house lay long in deep repose.

And in the luck of night
In secret places where no other spied
I went without my sight
Without a light to guide
Except the heart that lit me from inside.

It guided me and shone
Surer than noonday sunlight over me,
And lead me to the one
Whom only I could see
Deep in a place where only we could be.

O guiding dark of night!
O dark of night more darling than the dawn!
O night that can unite
A lover and loved one,
Lover and loved one moved in unison.

And on my flowering breast
Which I had kept for him and him alone
He slept as I caressed
And loved him for my own,
Breathing an air from redolent cedars blown.

And from the castle wall
The wind came down to winnow through his hair
Bidding his fingers fall,
Searing my throat with air
And all my senses were suspended there.

I stayed there to forget.
There on my lover, face to face, I lay.
All ended, and I let
My cares all fall away
Forgotten in the lilies on that day.