Years ago, as a gift for my daughters, I painted two paintings on the theme of dancing.
Yesterday, I wrote a poem entitled, Why I Dance.
I knew that somewhere I had a photo of the painting I’d created for my eldest daughter and went in search of it. I thought it might make a good accompaniment for my poem.
I found the painting, (believe me I was surprised!) but… I wasn’t all that pleased with the work. At the time, it was good. I had only been painting for a couple of years and it was a reflection of my nascent skills and talent.
But, (and yes, there’s always a ‘but’) I had totally forgotten about the ‘when’ of my beginning to paint until I started working on a new piece to go with my poem.
I started painting in the throes of a relationship that almost killed me. I had mostly quit writing. Writing is about truth for me and the truth around that relationship was enshrouded in so much pain and fear and terror I could not, would not, didn’t dare express it.
On that first day when I picked up a paintbrush, I found a way to express myself through creating beauty to block out the pain and fear I lived within every moment of every day.
As I look back on the gifts that painting has brought me, I am humbled by its power to transform fear into faith, pain into perseverance, horror into hope.
My eldest daughter taught me how to paint.
My daughters teach me how to love, the darkness and the light, within and all around me.
Writing teaches me every day how to walk in truth.
Painting awakens me, every day, to the beauty, within and all around me.
And here’s the thing about writing. This post is not at all what I had thought it would be about when I started typing this morning.
And then, the words appeared and as is the way, they just kept flowing as I flowed with them.
I’d type more but… Beaumont the Sheepadoodle is sitting by my desk, staring at me with that looks he gets when he feels I have been sitting here too long. “It’s time to get out into nature,” he says with his emploring eyes.
And I believe him and am off to dance with nature.
Why I Dance by Louise Gallagher There is no rhyme or reason to why I dance there is only the beat pounding pulsing pushing my body to move cavort contort into expressive release of the energy coursing through my veins limbs extended reaching out as if in that one fluid motion I can grab on to nothing but air and fly as high as the sky free of all earth bound need to be tied down. There is no rhyme or reason to why I dance. There is only the desire to fly free.