During the second day of Creativity Boot Camp, our coach encouraged us to get out our paints and
Paint whatever we wanted.
Whereever our creativity took us, we were to land there, explore.
Make a huge mess for the sake of letting go.
That's hard for a Type-A personality who likes to plan where she's going,
have a road map marked out, a path to her art that's been building in the pit of her stomach, soul.
I wondered if I even knew what "just let go" meant in terms of creation.
But we painted, nonetheless, anyway, with abandon and recklessness and spontanity.
E and me.
We made a mess, and I took my cues from his toddler movements, ventured where my paint brush felt like venturing
through swirls of turquoise
and lyrics of Copeland repeating in my head
around and 'round the cornflower blues of bright eyes.
And when we were finished, both of us coated in our craft physically,
the letting part of the go
seemed to make itself known
through the gentle ebb of thoughts in my mind
the relaxation spread across my shoulders
the small smiles spread across my lips
Instead of wearing my art in huge tidal waves of pent-up emotion, the only trace left of the creative energy bound up tightly in my body was the paint streaking my knuckles.