Painting Peace

When the going gets tough, the saying goes, the tough get going…heh. Yeah. right.

Wish it were that easy. For me, this week, when the going gets tough, apparently, Carolyn goes painting.

Huh?

Let me explain.

Life means a bit of slogging these days, for moi. The beginning of April is a time of remembering loss and love, broken dreams and trust, tears and fears. Even as the snow melts and spirits lift, my spirit is a little melancholy missing what was, and what might have been.

Added to that is the move of Bergen and Associates Counselling. I’m looking forward to being moved…but the moving itself has been a little daunting. Seems like we’re still at the stage of making lists, and each time we go to strike something off the list, we realize two more tasks need to be added. Then there’s the leaky toilet at home that needs to get fixed…and fast–before a crowd shows up this weekend. And the bumper that only duct tape holds together…finding the time to get the appointment made. Sigh.

Then there has been pain-witnessing. It’s inherent to my chosen career, which I love and long to continue, that I listen to stories of pain. I hear lots. Somehow this week, personally and professionally, watching those I care about mired so deep in horribleness, weighed heavy.

Then, in an evening of abandon last week, I ignored all the to do lists and read a book that was recommended to me, Choosing to SEE by Mary Beth Chapman. It’s the story of a family muddling through the tragic death of their 5 year old, Maria Sue. A beautiful, inspiring story with moments of hilarity, but many poignant moments of heartbreak and sadness…which trigger me to remember my own times of loss and despair. Some of the thoughts and themes in it resonate with my own, and create more thought. It’s been a teary week at times.

So, Sunday afternoon, after spending some time with a friend whose father was buried last week, I went to paint a few walls. I only had a coupla hours to paint as I had a late afternoon function to attend. I was feeling a little discouraged and fragile, but also feeling the pressure to get something done that day.

So…I stopped by Starbucks to pick up a favorite drink…extra hot so it would stay warmer longer while I worked. Yup, I know Starbucks is stinking expensive, and an extravagant luxury…but it made the prospect of painting much more appealing.

I got to the office, and a small blessing happened…I didn’t have to deactivate the alarm (which is amazingly effective, piercingly loud, and a little complex…but that’s another blog entry). I met our neighbor, Doug of DL Photography. And had a great chat. Friendly guy, and great to meet some of the neighbors in our new home. And then I put some tunes on. And sipped, and painted, and slurped, and edged, and gulped, and rolled. An afternoon of tunes, latte, and paint.

Songs of hope, truth, love…songs that centred me, reminded me of what is important, what is real, what I know is true. These songs playing while my hands held the brush and edged along the top of the ceiling, and above the carpet edge. These songs playing while the roller ran up and down the walls, smoothing on the paint, covering up the areas where the first coat hadn’t completely covered. The wall looking finished and solid…beautiful…and done. First one wall, then another.

Visible work completed in an almost hypnotic back and forth, up and down; the dip into the pain, the dab at the edge of the container, and the brush up against the wall. Over and over again, at once both concentrating carefully to get clean edges, and mindlessly doing the repetitive work of painting, all the while listening to music that restored my soul. The rhthym of the painting a sort of restorative beat into my life. I had time to think. Contemplating the complexity of life, of joy, of pain leaves me with more questions than answers. One song I heard this week, echoes in my head, written and sung by a Laura Story as her husband struggles with brain cancer:

What if your healing comes through tears?

But the painting and the music calmed me, and restored me. No answers, nothing fixed, long to do lists await me, the season of sadness is still around…but I’ve got some “gas in my tank” and have an energy and hope that eluded me. There was an odd comfort in the afternoon yesterday…one that I can’t entirely explain.

But maybe I don’t need to understand it. Just revel in it.