I woke up yesterday with a burning LOVE for life. The sort of feeling that just pulses through you. Everything was clicking into place. Like K'NEX (remember those? I used to make the most extravagant contraptions with those things.)
Theres a new voice inside me that speaks to me in loving words and phrases all day long. Who is She? Where did She come from? I dont know... It doesn't matter. I love her. Im having an affair with the woman inside me. And it feels so good.
She was nuts yesterday.
I woke up, and immediately typed out the most epic of emails, an email Id written in my head 10 thousand times, but was AFRAID to really write.
Then, even more ludicrous, I hit the send button.
It was as if a chain reaction occurred. It felt so good! Ah! Im so human, just a big pleasure seeking machine.
What else feels good?
So I began packing up my car....
- Green smoothie. LOTS of Green Smoothie. That never fails to feel good.
- Paint. Of Course.
- My Camera. Oh how I love it.
- My Stilettos. (I dont know.. They just feel good. So I threw them in the trunk. Ya never know.)
- My i-pod. Techno is my GOD. My LifeForce, the fuel to my fire.
- A Pad of paper and a Black Marker. Blank pages are the key to all things creative and NEW.
- 2 Yoga mats. Perhaps I subconsciously knew Id need a second?
Then I began driving... and Driving. What am I doing?
I have no idea.
Then I text Lacey. Better known to me as 'Face'. (It began as Lace-Face, then quickly the Lace fell off and now she's simply Face.
Somehow, I end up at the ASU Dorms (Eck), picking up my dear friend. She's got her hiking shoes on. We both do.
I ask her where we were going. She points me in a direction and I drive.
We talk about a million life philosophies. And ask each other questions even Ghandi couldn't answer with true certainty, because there are no answers and nobody knows. Theories of Remarkable-ness. Why we are here. Who we are. What are we doing? The sort of deep cyclical conversation that could go on for days if you allowed it.
I love our conversations. I crave this sort of thing.
As we drive, we say things we don't want to forget. How handy that I have a pad of paper. And this black marker.
Im not sure anything we wrote would make any sense to anyone else. I am sure that it is not important.
We wrote things that moved us. Now that I think of it, that is exactly what was happening. We were being moved.
We ended up at Mcdowell Mountain. Offering to paint something in lieu of the 6 dollar entrance fee. (Doesn't hurt to try, ya' never know)
Then we got caught by a "Park Ranger" attempting to do yoga on top of a restroom... Thats another story though.
So we hike this mountain, or 'Hill' as Face refers to it. Either way it was perfect.
We lug all these things I brought, up the hill.
(Minus the stilettos, although I appreciated the possibility of them)
The never-ending life questions gradually seemed to melt away as we hiked.
Then at the top.
Because I have 2 mats.
Sun salutations came out of us.
Moved through us.
And then the pad of paper.
Seemed so right.
Its as though I new all along.
I still don't know what we are doing. I couldn't describe it if my life depended on it.
It was important though.
And then the words felt so strongly, like big constellations of sensations inside me.
It only made sense to cover ourselves in them.
We got out the paint, and I stood there with my brush. "What do you want me to write?"
Yeah, thats what she said.
And that seemed to make so much sense. Everything made sense.
My God, THIS is it.
What is it?
I dont know.
This is me Sure.
About an hour into this process I realized that although I knew what Sure looked like I wasn't Sure I knew what sure felt like. Do you?
How do I know when Im sure?
I just do.
The paint kept flowing..
The questions were relentless.
The answers were scarce.
We had mind boggling revelations about things that didn't matter.
Became completely clear that we had no clue about anything.
Decided that typically we were not typical.
I thought it made sense. But then it didn't.
Nothing made sense, in a strange sort of way where everything did.
And then we realized that we could move around in our new painted outfits and different words came together.
To make new phrases and ideas.
All of which felt even more perfect then the intended ideas.
Or did they?
And then a point came where It felt things were coming to a close. So we began to question what 'done' felt like.
Like this maybe?
We really didn't know. If I had painted a list upon myself of the things I am SURE that I DO NOT KNOW, I would be suffocating under 1 trillion layers of paint.
Im not sure what happened on this day, but I do know one thing.
This isn't going to be the last time.
I asked Face "where do we find a TRIBE of Paint Warrior who will do this with us?"
She didn't know... Yeah, add that to the list.
I made one of these my Facebook profile picture last night.
This morning, upon walking into the yoga studio, someone asked me a question...
"Will you Paint me?"
And to THAT question.
I have an answer....
It would be my pleasure.