Drove out to visit Becca in her new house. It’s beautiful and big and her studio makes me think I’m up in the tower of a castle, except this one is sunny and full of messy hands and paint. I taught her how to use a Gelli Arts gel plate & we made fun printed papers, how to type on a typewriter. We shared our journal pages and things we’re trying.
Came back to town to meet E for dinner. We’ve known each other for so long, we can pick up after months or years apart, our friendship built on shared history and easy comfort. We have a plan & I have a lot of work to do.
My FMS made itself known, screaming and kicking and had me diving for my pain medication. I slept through the afternoon, then grabbed my couch box and settled in with the Avengers. I worked in my journal and pulled out a painting I started last month. Took a little break to have my heart broken.
I had fun. A bit of joy through paint and shape and color. I thought back to the sensations of having an adventure, of the excitement that jumps up and down in your stomach, the fluttering of your heart in your chest, the way everything is clearer and brighter and interesting because of where you’re going, what you’re doing. That stepping outside yourself, the daily grind, your definition of normal.
I applied magic — the way butterflies could be on hats and still flutter their wings. A bird perched atop a woman’s head, her animal guide only she could see. A trip bag full of the type of things Mary Poppins would pull out to heal and amuse. What is in there? Could the contents be clues as to where they’re going? Are they flying across the country or around the world? What will they find once they get there?
How can we, too, capture the thrill of adventure in our daily lives?
(This is a question I have been pondering for awhile. A question easily answered: easily. It simply takes a shift in perception. I’ll tell you later. Tomorrow. This week. I can say this: whenever I forget that, I glance over at this painting and remember. Remember you can always have an adventure, even without leaving the house.)