“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

9.20.2009

Sunshine, A chair, a can of paint

There was sunshine today and I painted a chair.

A real chair, not a painting, one that was a beautiful brown, and one that the lovely, lovely Katie thought should stay brown to balance all the white in the room, but I knew when I agreed she was probably right that I would probably paint it anyway. And when the day showed up with sunshine I couldn't resist and it is no longer brown, it is "Celtic Gray" which is really a pale greenish gray that looks an ooonch blue and the house just seems full of that sunshine, so much lighter and happier, and my soul also, painting a meditation for me, just like sweeping. Yesterday I painted a bench that sits at the foot of my bed and the night before I repainted a child's chair I found at a flea market; I needed the soothing of painting something, something that wasn't art. I have always loved painting walls and painting furniture but it's been a long time - I haven't been up to it lately and we even paid someone to paint the back room at work because I just didn't want to do it, but this weekend, this long weekend to myself, something clicked softly back into place, a number on the lock guarding the safe to my soul sliding into place; I almost physically felt it. One number down, how many more to go until I am open again? A question I can't answer, and really I don't care - the beginning has begun.

I painted while listening to tv movies, something with Harrison Ford, something with someone else, and I painted with mindlessness and total attention and care. I could tell you the plots to the movies, and the paint dripped only once. It is a small thing - this time alone, the phone not ringing, but an important thing, a healing for me. Yesterday a hose to the new washer broke and in the midst of painting I had to stop, I had to move the washer, I had to clean up, and when I was finished, I began to paint again, spilling paint on the floor, on me, jittery, tense, my moment gone. There was a concert to attend last night, new people to meet, and after emailing assurances I would be there, I fell asleep, waking too late to make it, but knowing I needed the break. Perhaps the best thing all around, the staying alone, the resting. I watched Lifetime TV's tale of Georgia O'Keeffe, finding it too much Steiglitz & not enough O'Keeffe, but also finding myself understanding O'Keeffe's need for solitude, and finding myself missing the desert Southwest, wanting a house with a black door.

When I find the right house, I will buy a can of black paint.
i see a red door & i want to paint it black

11 comments:

  1. Georgia O'Keefe has been popping up everywhere lately...must be a cosmic thing.
    Painting is very therapeutic. Very meditative. Time alone heals. I like to refuel alone. Its what fills me up. Not being around a million people.
    Harrison Ford movies. Hmmm. I think I've seen him in Star Wars. That is it. I'll look for him in something else.
    xoxo

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  2. Hi there you. I've found you on Graciel's blog and was stunned with the story you've wrote there. So I was curious and wanted to see the you behind this name, behind this story. I'm gladd I've found your blog and will visit again soon. Thanks for letting me have a peek into your life.
    Bye for now Dagmar

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  3. What lovely inspiration... I'll be lost in color in a few minutes, but I wanted to visit with a few lovelies first.

    I think of the Rolling Stones - "I see a red door and I want to paint it black..."

    ;-)

    (((hugs))),
    love,
    me

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  4. I really identified with this post. I dvred the movie. I have always been fascinated with her work and the ability to take something simple in nature and make it so spectacular. If I had a door I would pain it blue.

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  5. geiorgia o'keefe was the number one search, on msn.com yesterday. huh.
    paint my sister, paint.
    xoxo

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  6. solitude and a can of paint ESPECIALLY celtic grey..bliss. I think your writing is so tender and touching Debi...i was nodding yes while reading this...a faint smile..thoughts of new mexico waft in and around my mind

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  7. I love to paint like that...getting totally lost. I need that time alone too...it's good for my soul. I do hope you find that house...

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  8. This sounds a bit like my life lately, finding both serenity and struggling with the jittery, miserable parts of myself, even bouncing between them haphazardly. I'm glad you were able to rest, and I hope that house is waiting for you just around the corner.

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  9. I have always wanted to find an interesting piece of furniture and paint it, but I have never found the right piece, and I think I would be a bit afraid to totally mess it up if I painted it wrong. I guess that's the nice thing about paint..you can always paint over. But still, the task feels a bit daunting.
    Still, one day, I will try.

    xo

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  10. i watched that movie too and wanted to go back for a visit to New Mexico.
    i have a chest of drawers I need to paint - it's is a peaceful thing when the mood is right.

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  11. Sigh. sigh.

    the beginning has begun

    What a phrase. What a lovely thought. You make me happy. You make me still, soften, open.

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