No More Conditions

I didn’t draw or paint since I was a child which means many many years ago... I always thought I was not good at it, it was not for me, I had other talents and interests.

And now that I have started to do it and I let myself be transported by the magic of mixing colors and creating with my hands, I wonder how could I miss this joy for so long.

And of course I don’t have the skill: just a glimpse at my whale proves that. But this animal in the deep blue appeared in one of my dreams at night some weeks ago. In the dream the whale called me to dive down towards her and feel her pulsating heart close to mine. There I went, and in her belly I laid down and started to feel calmer and calmer, lovingly supported as we both drifted in the currents of the ocean.

From that beautiful dream experience, a poem was also born, the expression of a longing. How much I wish I could feel more often that wonderful sense of safety and trust.

Your rhythm is my rhythm
All my being feels your beat
Life in the deepest darkness
That one can imagine

 Life I melt with 

Will you heal my wounded wing?
Will you heal the sad-winged dove?
Will you lick the tears running down its plumage?
(*)

The image I dared to draw reminds me of this experience. It reminds me that there is a part of me which is calm and grounded, and at the same time, pure pulsating life force. Sometimes, when I forget this truth and the events of life make me feel small and powerless, I only have to look at my childish drawing, my whale, and I find my center again. 

Now I regret this belief I have been holding for so long: that I need to be good at something in order to do it. That I need to know how to do something before I do it.

But who said that we need to know how to paint in order to paint?
Or know how to sing in order to sing?
Do we need to know how to live in order to live?

Today I declare: no more limiting conditions to joy and life!

(*)Poem in the original language

Tu ritmo es mi ritmo
Todo mi ser siente tu latir
Vida en la oscuridad más profunda
Que uno pueda imaginar

 Vida con la que me fundo

 ¿Sanarás mi ala herida?
¿Sanarás a la paloma de alas tristes?
¿Lamerás las lágrimas que recorren su plumaje?