In the end, we will summon our own wings.
It was many months ago that I began this painting.
When I started, it was swirling and bright. It has shifted in the last few weeks. Its mood has darkened and the light has shifted. Still, it seems to me to be brighter now.
I’ve been staring at it lot lately…hoping a title would come to me.
Sometimes, I look and almost see a bird flying up. But, the wings seem to be in the wrong place and detached. I can feel that it’s colored by the difficult grief related to my older brother’s life and death. He was my closest sibling in age. He was also the one I felt farthest from. I can’t put into words the complex emotions around it. So…I just paint.
It was while I was working on another painting that the phrase “In the end, we will summon our own wings” came into my mind and I scribbled it in my notebook. It seems to make sense to me with this painting.
I’ve been thinking isn’t that what we are all trying to do at one point or another. Call something into our life that will lift us out of whatever is hurting or confusing. Something inside us that could free us. Let us fly away as our complete self.
I know it isn’t finished yet…but it’s getting closer.
“I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,
as though I had wings” – Mary Oliver
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