Day 12 of 31 Days in July
The TBI Collection of the PTSD Poetry Project
“Shades of Black and Grey”
What is your color of choice?
I am asked repeatedly
I ignore it as I sketch
What began as shades of grey
Against a background
Assumed to be black
Becomes a startling study of color
On top of multitudes of grey
Glowing against the darkness
Questioning you in what you think it is you see
I want to see!
Let me in so I can see!
The demands jostle against me
I ignore it as I sketch
Music plays as I work
Ignoring the questions
Music fills my mind
Urging me into my zone of creation
I feels it’s call
And I answer it
I embrace it
I fall into it’s arms
As I find the rhythm of the dance
One I wish would never end
It is a dance
I do not care who sees
For this is one I remember
It’s presence is one I do not question
Those moments I am in its arms
Are the ones where I do not think
No memory of anything but this moment
These shades of black and white
Have exploded into world
Filled with endless shades of color
These are the moments of joy
July 12, 2016
Personal Journal Entry
I’m sketching and listening to an inner vision. It’s not one I’m seeing but instead hearing. The moments I see are instead heard and I’m listening hard. As I sketch I’m live streaming and the comments distract me until I simply quit looking. Instead I am listening to what is inside me. This creative fire.
My head tilts as I look at the grey scale picture I have created using layers upon layer and have begun to lay in color. I’m listening although it appears I’m looking. It’s similar to the idea of hearing hoofbeats in the distance. I hear them coming from far, far away. I close my eyes and listen more deeply. I can see them now thundering towards me and I outstretch them in welcome. This last moment as the creativity roars towards me makes me breathless with excitement.
I see everything at once in these snapshots of what I want to do. My hands begin to move faster as the images fall together inside my mind and pour out of my hands onto the screen. What had become so loud is now part of me in this incredible dance. It is one I have known since I was a child and grew into as an adult. This creative dance consumes me. It causes hours to disappear until I get up from my chair to find my body stiff and difficult to move.
Hours gone because of this dance with a partner who knows every move I make. The anticipation of each move we make together is a joy to behold and to be in. Nothing else exists but these moments. Each hour away from them I want to be back. These are what each artist is striving to find in the hours and hours we spend creating.
This creative moment where nothing else exists and it is as close to a dissociative place as there can possible be. Nothing adds up to this adrenaline and endorphin rush. Nothing. Not one activity can be held up to this to be compared. Each person’s creative fire, creative dance is unique in its rhythm, it’s play. Each is a joy to behold.
Every day I have begun to seek this place again. This so familiar, yet new and exciting place inside myself where I can set all that I am free.