Journal
I pulled an unfinished trio of intuitive drawings out of storage to work on this past week. New ideas and forgotten memories surfaced while I sketched, placing lines, accentuating forms, building layers and developing the composition as I went. This manner of drawing reminds me of the sort of aimless doodling which occurs when I am listening to a phone conversation or a lecture.
Intuitive drawing sort of frees me up to listen deeply. This week I spent lots of time listening. I transitioned from listening to the arrhythmic night noises seeping through the windowpanes to hearing the subdued heart's cry of a little girl long ago. I began to draw a small girl overwhelmed in a long, outdated, scratchy purple winter coat.
Then I heard another perspective which brought compassion and understanding to me. I remembered buying an elegant purple winter coat with classic lines recently. The thought of my little girl wearing such a fine, warm coat was a comfort to me. I suddenly understood what my mother's look meant when she lovingly smiled at me in my purple coat. I laughed, realizing that she would have bought me another coat in a heartbeat if I had mentioned my embarrassment and discomfort. Instead, however, it was the first in a succession of fake-fur trimmed, calf-length coats.
Ah, that was one profitable counseling session! Thanks, Lord!
I pulled an unfinished trio of intuitive drawings out of storage to work on this past week. New ideas and forgotten memories surfaced while I sketched, placing lines, accentuating forms, building layers and developing the composition as I went. This manner of drawing reminds me of the sort of aimless doodling which occurs when I am listening to a phone conversation or a lecture.
Intuitive drawing sort of frees me up to listen deeply. This week I spent lots of time listening. I transitioned from listening to the arrhythmic night noises seeping through the windowpanes to hearing the subdued heart's cry of a little girl long ago. I began to draw a small girl overwhelmed in a long, outdated, scratchy purple winter coat.
Then I heard another perspective which brought compassion and understanding to me. I remembered buying an elegant purple winter coat with classic lines recently. The thought of my little girl wearing such a fine, warm coat was a comfort to me. I suddenly understood what my mother's look meant when she lovingly smiled at me in my purple coat. I laughed, realizing that she would have bought me another coat in a heartbeat if I had mentioned my embarrassment and discomfort. Instead, however, it was the first in a succession of fake-fur trimmed, calf-length coats.
Ah, that was one profitable counseling session! Thanks, Lord!
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