the mind can paint

Last night, I went to my first ever water-color painting class. Here’s the picture we’re doing, the teacher said. Here’s the supply list, here are some paints to use tonight, here are your brushes. Watch me, follow along. Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no. My mountains are too purple and huge, if you’re worried about scale. I think my river looks good. Trees? So, so. Did I have fun? Yes! I think. Was it a challenge? Yes! I think. Did I sleep well last night? No! I think too much.

My mind, it sees layers of color everywhere. It sees perfect pictures it knows I can paint with my untrained hands. My mind knows exactly what to do, but … my hands. The supply list is beckoning me, go get the paper, the colors, the brushes, and then you will show everyone just how much you know. Your picture will be perfect. Whimsical, yet realistic. Colorful, yet understated. Imaginative, yet not … crazy.

Oh, well. Intensity is one of my strong points, but can overwhelm me and drown the fun with its heaviness. I need to let up a little on this painting thing. Float, flow, fly. Or maybe I just need to get the paper, brushes and paint, and try it. Bring the mind back into reality. See, my hand doesn’t know what to do, there are things we must learn, I tell myself. See, the mountains still loom like pterodactyls. But they’re better.

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