The golden sun lights up the fields we play in and makes us shine. An overwhelming bliss fills our hearts. We want to act like children and explore the land in our bare feet. Our curious minds wander to the back woods, where a cool chill overcomes us. Even though it is late July, the shade of the canopied trees covers our summer skin with goose bumps. We hike through the trails of ferns, dirt, and streams and finally reach our destination, the river. She is roaring after the summer night’s thunderstorm. We cross the gushing waterway by skipping over the slippery rocks. When we reach the other side we find a shallow pool of water that is being warmed by the blazing sun. I painted my room as the blazing sun.It was a yellow sort of a cantaloupe color. I love the brightness of it, it always gave me a tropical feeling even though I live in a place where the seasons can be harsh and the winters are dead and colorless. My bed spread covered in beautiful polka dots. Perfectly round with every color of the rainbow. They gave me comfort even in my darkest and coldest days. I was mourning for the loss of my love but joyous in the arrival of my best friend Isabel. She is someone I can share anything with, my hopes, my dreams, my fears. She liked to paint, she’s an artist. She brought her paintbrushes and acrylic paints over on this hot summer night so we could escape the stress of our everyday work lives and the discomfort of our everyday family lives. We decided to escape. We would make a beautiful tree, within it every brush stroke, every line, every curve would have meaning to us. It was our sacred feminine side becoming manifest as the dreaming tree. My soul sister, Isabel, and I painted the tree awaiting the arrival of Elaine Marie, my step mother. She was our very own sage. We trusted her and she felt young around our careless, stress-free spirits.The three of us painted the dreaming tree for hours. One of us would sit back, relax and dictate where the others should add a branch or two. The remaining two would paint their souls out onto the orange walls. Elaine Marie added a beautiful heart intertwined in the branches of the tree. We realized that this heart represented the one love between us all. The fact that we know we are all the same in spirit even though our appearance may reflect a different image. We know that we are the daughters of the sun, the sky, the wind, and the rain. We know that the very dust and molecules that make up the Great Oaks and the mighty Hemlocks are just a manifestation of the life force and power of creation that flows through our being. Gazing out at the branches of a tree after nightfall, the silhouette of the branch against the blue night sky strikes an amazing similarity to the very veins I see in my wrists flowing out through my fingers. I know I’m connected with the one. Back in the cantaloupe cove, which is like a very womb to us, we connect once again. The smell of the burning lemon grass incense and The Dave Matthews poster hanging on the wall among many other assorted posters such as Bob Marley, The Breakfast Club, even a Sailors Kiss; icons of their time, give us comfort and ease. The nuances of a more modern age are strewn across my walls, a spiraling sun drawn by a trusted sister. This is our home, our sanctuary. It allows us the space within our minds to put the finest touches on the tree. We dip our hands into the shallow bowl of paint and decide to decorate the walls further with our signature handprints. We decide that anyone who enters our sanctuary has to also leave their mark upon the wall. Each one of our prints is different and unique, just as the branches of the dreaming tree. We are content in knowing that we are all meant to be together this fine day. I laid my head on my pillow in rest with gratitude for the beauty that this day has brought to me. I know I am a fortunate child.
I painted my room as the blazing sun. It was a yellow sort of a cantaloupe color. I love the brightness of it, it always gave me a tropical feeling even though I live in a place where the seasons can be harsh and the winters are dead and colorless. My bed spread covered in beautiful polka dots. Perfectly round with every color of the rainbow. They gave me comfort even in my darkest and coldest days. I was mourning for the loss of my love but joyous in the arrival of my best friend Isabel. She is someone I can share anything with, my hopes, my dreams, my fears. She liked to paint, she’s an artist. She brought her paintbrushes and acrylic paints over on this hot summer night so we could escape the stress of our everyday work lives and the discomfort of our everyday family lives. We decided to escape. We would make a beautiful tree, within it every brush stroke, every line, every curve would have meaning to us. It was our sacred feminine side becoming manifest as the dreaming tree.
My soul sister, Isabel, and I painted the tree awaiting the arrival of Elaine Marie, my step mother. She was our very own sage. We trusted her and she felt young around our careless, stress-free spirits. The three of us painted the dreaming tree for hours. One of us would sit back, relax and dictate where the others should add a branch or two. The remaining two would paint their souls out onto the orange walls. Elaine Marie added a beautiful heart intertwined in the branches of the tree. We realized that this heart represented the one love between us all. The fact that we know we are all the same in spirit even though our appearance may reflect a different image. We know that we are the daughters of the sun, the sky, the wind, and the rain. We know that the very dust and molecules that make up the Great Oaks and the mighty Hemlocks are just a manifestation of the life force and power of creation that flows through our being. Gazing out at the branches of a tree after nightfall, the silhouette of the branch against the blue night sky strikes an amazing similarity to the very veins I see in my wrists flowing out through my fingers. I know I’m connected with the one.
Back in the cantaloupe cove, which is like a very womb to us, we connect once again. The smell of the burning lemon grass incense and The Dave Matthews poster hanging on the wall among many other assorted posters such as Bob Marley, The Breakfast Club, even a Sailors Kiss; icons of their time, give us comfort and ease. The nuances of a more modern age are strewn across my walls, a spiraling sun drawn by a trusted sister. This is our home, our sanctuary. It allows us the space within our minds to put the finest touches on the tree. We dip our hands into the shallow bowl of paint and decide to decorate the walls further with our signature handprints. We decide that anyone who enters our sanctuary has to also leave their mark upon the wall. Each one of our prints is different and unique, just as the branches of the dreaming tree. We are content in knowing that we are all meant to be together this fine day. I laid my head on my pillow in rest with gratitude for the beauty that this day has brought to me. I know I am a fortunate child.