NEW DAWN

Dear friends, thanks so very much for taking your precious time to visit my blog again this month and for your interest in my watercolor journey.

November has been a heavy month full of sadness and disaster for so many families. The human predicament is one in which after disaster hits, or sadness or misery, we are faced with the fact that we must continue on. A new day dawns, and it is our job to pick up the pieces, whatever they might be, and continue to live.

Oftentimes, I have found this to be a very confusing time. How can we continue on when you know that someone else is still suffering or hurt or experiencing the crumbling of the very foundations of their world? And yet this is what is demanded: the bills must be paid, children fed, lawns mowed, etc.

We have no choice, really, but to continue on living. So then how do we live this new version of life? How do we recapture our joy? How do we incorporate this depth of experiential sadness into our being in such a way that it memorializes and even cherishes the memory of the past while grasping our own existence with both hands and becoming victorious over the darkness?

For each person the journey toward a new dawn will be unique. I can’t by any stretch of the imagination tell you how to do this for yourself or what will work for you. I know there are many who courageously will, and I leave them to their wisdom. But I believe that all I really can do is share my journey in hopes that it will inspire your own conclusions and recovery.

Uploaded by Jb Breton on 2013-12-11.

It is a well-known fact that music is healing. I offer you Anner Bylsma playing the cello. This Dutchman’s rendition of Bach has been a constant companion of mine this month, and I offer him to you. I hope that you will play his clip while you read the rest of my blog and that it brings you the soothing release that it does me.

“Not knowing when the dawn will come, I open every door.”

— Emily Dickinson

This month I have chosen to share a painting that to me exemplifies the essence of a new dawn. This painting brings me much joy. It is composed from the outside looking into a world not yet our own. Because the viewer is placed outside the window looking into the scene, there is a sense of expectation. And because the viewer is allowed to see past the scene through the multi-paned French door behind the hydrangeas, there is a sense of mystery and hope.

This little leaf is my symbol of reaching for the light.

For me a white cup is a symbol of hearth and home and the comfort only they can bring.

In this quadrant of the painting, you find a dark corner. Something about the light in this dark corner speaks to my spirit.

“Art is my cure to all this madness, sadness and loss of belonging in the world and through it I’ll walk myself home.”

— Nikki Rowe

Thank you for joining me again this month. I hope that my simple effort to share comfort through art has reached you. My soul reaches out to you this month. May you find inspiration to approach life with renewed joy and desire to weave the threads of sorrow through the tapestry of your life to create something beautiful.