The Tools of Transformation: 

        Eyes, Heart & Brushes!

As I was attempting unsuccessfully to calm my distressed inner child who was sobbing about the world’s latest disaster, my vibrant muse swept in. With her flaming red hair commanding attention and a look of delight emanating from her huge blue eyes, it was undoubtedly impossible to ignore her presence. Even my inner child stopped crying and looked up with expectation at my muse who was wearing a white radiant moonflower in her raven red hair. She was carrying a handful of brushes and waved them wildly, inviting both my inner child and me to engage in some creative fun.

                                     

Gesturing toward my studio, my muse, without asking, directed both of us to get up and move with her down a red carpet, which magically appeared and led toward a place where my blank white canvas and some luscious colors were awaiting us. Eager to escape our unhappiness, my inner child and I joined hands with my muse and followed that red path that led through the portal of my imagination and away from the stress we were experiencing. 

As I sat down to face an empty canvas on the easel in my studio, my muse turned on some lively music, and my inner child, forgetting the reasons for her melt down, began to lightheartedly dance around the room, as if nothing had ever been wrong. When I dipped my brush into a vibrant color, that was speaking to me, and stroked it across the canvas, a familiar flame of passion ignited and started to blaze in my heart. My eyes opened wider to see an inner landscape, not yet fully expressed in my life, and I started painting that mystical imagery I saw there. In that imaginary place I encountered a reality beyond the illusion of sadness and fear that was troubling me. While I was painting over that old oppressive version of a troubled world with bright colors of a new vision, my inner child skipped up next to me exploding with a shout of joy as she looked at my painting.

Every time I paused in doubt, my muse leaned over lovingly and whispered in my ear yet another inspiring idea, spurring me on to more creative action. The longer I painted, the more energy I seemed to have. Linear time ceased to exist as long hours of painting continued through the dark hours of the night. I finished as the light of the full moon was shining brightly through the window, spotlighting my inner child who was sleeping peacefully on a pillow in the corner of the room.  My muse looked over my shoulder at my painting and smiled reassuringly. She took the fully-bloomed moonflower that adorned her red hair and fastened it carefully in mine. At that moment, when all separation dropped away, I felt a an intimate oneness with my red-haired muse. Gratefully, I felt assured that she was huge part of my creative heart and confident that she always would be. As the moonlight lit up the darkness outside, luna moths fluttered playfully in search of the light that nourished and sustained them. And I, too, vowed to always do that same search for illumination ….. with my eyes open, my heart engaged and my brushes in hand.