I don't remember this goddess or why I needed to paint her.
About seven years ago, she was birthed onto a toothy paper page in a blaze of acrylic glory. I cannot guess what season brought her to life, but regardless of whether it was sweltering or frigid, it would have felt like a more painful and more peaceful time.
I was a new mother who stayed up long after bedtime, finding a remedy for grief and loneliness and confusion in the mixing of colors and the creation of icons, heroines, and guardians.
My world felt rough and narrow and impossibly sweet. Those were the days when I was mourning my mom’s death, figuring out how to build a business, and learning how to raise up a little girl.
And yet, when I look back, it seems like a simpler time.
Way back in 2012, politicians seemed sane, cultural divisions seemed manageable, and the environmental catastrophe seemed far off and avoidable. (Of course, “seemed” is the operative word since our society, our democracy, and our infrastructure was built on foundations that would prove to be all too vulnerable and flawed, but such is the nature of innocence before its inevitable collision with reality.)
The Goddess Chooses Her Time
As our world was changing, our family was growing, and I was awakening to new realities and healing old hurts, this mysterious goddess was there waiting in the darkness.
She was waiting to be needed, waiting to be found.
That little baby of mine is ten years old now. Yesterday, she spent her snow day making holiday gifts for her circle of best friends, so I pulled my abandoned craft bag from the basement in search of some special art supplies.
And there she was, a dark-skinned, green-eyed creation tucked amidst the carefully hoarded paint tubes and ink pads that had long since dried up.
My girls weren’t nearly as awe-struck as I was, and they were rather disappointed that the paint was useless, but what can you expect from children who haven’t yet learned what it’s like not to make art daily?
This goddess didn’t appear for these children who are insulated from the headlines and free of all the economic, existential, civic worry that comes with being an adult in America today.
In the middle of this darkest week of the year, wrapped in a cloak of yellow-orange beneath a kaleidoscope sky, this goddess appeared for me.
She appears for all of us grown-ups who watch the news and feel more and more devastated each day. She’s here for all of us who barely have time to throw on a jacket before heading into a world that often feels unjust, uncertain, and just plain cruel.
She appears for all of us who know that the first day of winter is just a few days away but who know we’ve been in a long, cold political winter for years now.
Where Will You Find Your Light In the Darkness?
The painting is propped against my computer monitor now.
For a while, I tried to figure out who she was supposed to be and what I needed from her all those years ago. I wondered if she answered those now-forgotten prayers of mine, but then I realized…
I uncovered a goddess in peach colored robes the day before the House impeachment vote.
I realize that I just might have painted her all those years ago because I would need a source of light on this unimaginable day when abuse of power is real, lies are currency, and the American dream has worn pitifully thin..
For now, I’m calling her Lady Peach, and this is what I’ve figured out so far…
She speaks to every activist who is exhausted by their work for voting rights, for reproductive rights, for LGBTQ rights, and on behalf of the children in cages and knows that every victory takes them only an inch closer to the end of the marathon.
She speaks to every creative who worries that their words and brush strokes are not enough in a world that’s broken and burning.
She speaks to all of us who want to keep making love, making art, and believing in magic but who want to heal the brutal realities we live in, too.
She whispers to all of us that there is light in the darkness, and that even when we forget, she’ll keep shining and waiting.
Lady Peach Offers Her Blessings
Happy Solstice, beloveds. Here’s to another run around the sun and to the one thing we can always count on: the return of the light.
And here’s to strength in the face of all the bullshit and the bluster coming out of Washington. Here’s to all the courage and patriotism, too.
Here’s to hope and here’s to the vote and here’s to a belief that we’ll rise from the ashes of all this with more clarity and compassion and a whole lot less of the white supremacist patriarchal control.
The #7MagicWords Challenge returns 1/7/20!
Things may look bleak as all hell right now (because even if we’ve been fighting to get this guy out of office from day one, we never, ever wanted to be in this mess in the first place), but I have some medicine for that…
#7MagicWords is the the free online challenge that inspires your creativity and invites you to uncover the power of your words. It just might inspire your activism too…