Depression and sadness are my constant companions. Being the daughter of a slave and being imprinted with her losses birthed me with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
Yet I have a sunny disposition.
Color seduces me but songs nurture me. The songs I love to listen to when I’m painting are songs of praise to G-d, songs that feel life happening, songs that appreciate wonders. Lately, my newest troubadour affection is Neil Diamond. It’s as if I’ve returned to my original family where Neil Diamond was as common as a cousins meeting. He is familiar, long lasting and a member of my tribe. I always listened to his music with fondness but never truly listened to him until several weeks ago. Suddenly, I’m hearing a Voice coming through him I have been hoping to hear all my life. I find that his words don’t always make sense but the package does. It’s mystical and divine.
There are ancient stories of G-d’s voice. Abraham heard it; Moses heard it. I often believe I also hear it. When I hear it, it’s the voice of sanity, sanctuary and hope. That’s what I’m hearing in the mundane, everyday Neil Diamond.
And that’s part of why I’m rather ruined when it comes to dating normal men. I’ve spent my entire life seeking out G-d because the pain I carry forces me to find divine relief. Because of that continual pilgrimage, I’m a Troubadour groupie. I met that Voice energy at the Western Wall in Israel 1978. Nothing prepared me for the impact of absorbing the enormous truth that this energy is not a fantasy of my mind. It is real whether I exist or not.
So I paint flowers in pastels. This is not an easy task for me. I am more prepared to paint landscapes, portraits, and animals. I have never been a flowery person. But I’m planting these flowers and these are my growth products. I need to take a strong look at the good I have done.
The sadness I feel is the emptiness of a soul seeking fulfillment. Last night at the Healing Circle, the Rabbi said that outside the tent, the Voice didn’t follow the seeker. The Voice allowed an emptiness in the seeker’s soul. That emptiness is where the seeker takes action. My action is to fill that emptiness with painting flowers in pastel. I know that for me, such attention to simple beauty is almost hard to do. I am much more familiar and comfortable with the grays and darks of depression. So for me, painting flowers with the raging fires of hell in my soul is an act of obedience to the Voice of the G-d. This is the Voice who woos me on and cools me down.