In stories with frames filled with pain, that disquieting art needs the safety to just be the colors on canvases and the words on pages that life is still able to come from.
Because despite not liking their crushing messages or where they come from, neglecting the existence of our communities is like building a system where happiness is denied if it doesn’t arrive in the right package.
And then our parts that have survived temporary moments in very permanent ways will continue to appear as enemies with voices in our very own homes.
And since old feels do replay regardless of desires, the shade that is thrown upon tomorrow’s journeys will feel like the certainty that our gardens must not be the happy kind.
And yet beyond our memorized hope are the soft identities of what is sown in small bands that at a deeper level are better able to nourish our being happy than specific outcomes do.
Sometimes it’s seeing that in the famine of words, colors guide us through what became that we thought would never be.
Sometimes it’s reassuring ourselves every time the shadows of frustration and suffering show up.
Sometimes it is simply having survived because that will always be a big win.
Sometimes it’s recognizing that we aren’t overreacting to our pain but believing in ourselves means making friends with our dragons and what they say that triggers us.
Sometimes it’s having the patience to try and fail because its really the movement along the way that is the all.
Sometimes it’s forgiveness for the overwhelmingly perfectly imperfect because regret means that we are watching for different, but we haven’t recognized it yet.
Sometimes it’s noticing the blue of the sky and smiling because other things hold that same hue, and safety can be found in those places on stormy days.
Sometimes it’s embracing goodbyes that hurt because what begins must end just as a sun sets after it has risen.
Sometimes it’s allowing the rain to flow because flowers exist with its presence and a good cry means that we see that in our real selves as well.
And sometimes it’s the joy of being sometime warriors in what appears to be ordinary stories while knowing that we have everything that it takes to makes epic tales bigger.
Small things are waiting to be found, but our propensity has been to oppose anything whose engagement isn’t the right kind of happiness.
So go ahead and carve out space for that color, those tears, that smile, that surviving, that run, that blah because that is what we did in the very same places that we have felt fear, screamed, suffered, felt weak, failed or whatever.
Keep believing in hope, in change and in yourself but more importantly be determined to find different in all the frames that have kept you feeling unsafe and on the edge of happiness for far too long.
Have the best day POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell
Every day is a colors day and within all of those pigments are the echos of the shadows, the shouts of light and the uneasy answer that we must somehow find safety on pages where the artwork doesn’t only communicate happy or helpful.
So, we welcome hope because we can’t wait to be free of what we wish to leave behind as if somehow those previous frames never happened and we don’t still feel them.
And yet what follows is that the idea of different crosses paths with a community of established emotions that don’t let go and confidence is surrendered to the existence of being just a backstage character who only shows up once in a while.
So, we find ourselves in between an abundance of repetitive words and colors and the half-truth that hope’s possibilities may be dreamed of but not truly experienced.
And then slowly, the revitalizing relief that came from envisioning change begins to wind down in such a way that we don’t realize that it is being reframed into yet another memory that will also travel along with us.
And because that waiting for things to fade has kept us lost and insecure in a life filled with colors that haven’t made any sense, we still won’t have permission to stride into happiness.
And those days that have stepped on us and inspired the thoughts of being gardens that contain a beauty that is safe from debris won’t be separated from us even by distance or time.
But in the patterns of silence and pauses that follow that vocal litter are the spaces that we can do a little better than yesterday in what’s been the least suitable to imagine developing our artwork in.
The past shares its messages with today and the tomorrows will receive what has been distracting us now but what covers us doesn’t have to feel the same even when we turn to look at what has already been.
Hope is the blue of a storm-free day and anger is the red that comes from the devastating loss of a dream but then there is also purple that blends the hurt with the love that grew beside it so that they won’t be framed as strangers while existing together on our pages.
Happiness isn’t the absence of pain but the safety to be grieving while also beaming.
Have the best day POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell
One of the hardest things about change is the way that colors that don’t fit the idea of potential land on the artwork obtusely composing a story one frame at a time.
Sometimes those forms resonate with the grief while in others, the lack of depth is the silent tribute to the doubt that has been a constant companion over the years.
And still more where the hues are dabbed on with an unsureness that they are enough to express what home really feels like in some moment.
Then there are soft and strong touches of the consistency of perceived flaws and scenery that darkens even in the light.
As well as outlined pieces that were begun but ended up feeling unimportant or perhaps took shape on a day where hope waned, so they remain incomplete.
There are components whose bold pigments are charged by fear and anger that distract from the blues that celebrate the beauty of the sky from start to finish.
And greenery that display the very thoughts of uncomfortable things that quickly cover a garden with their need for solutions, changing the course of desired blooms more often than not.
And the shadows showing the influence of the love/hate storytelling that personal experiences have upon dreams, dimming the value of one try and one smile at a time.
And of course, there are the fluctuations in decisions made from the varying choices woken up with on each traversed line of stillness and chaos.
The body of the negatives complicates the view of colors and the role that each play in bringing to life real feelings that we can’t always find the words to express.
We are not broken simply because their existence dances across our pages, but by residing in our homes, we have the opportunity to examine closely every form that has been shaping the realities that we have been hoping to get away from.
When color watching, a sense of well-being isn’t just in the frames of happiness but rather in the wholeness of our being we the colors in any and all given situations.
Have the best day POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell
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