What’s With All the Flowers?
Ever since grade school, my mom was really cool about letting me paint on whatever I wanted to, like my bookbag and my bedroom walls. Naturally, I painted flowers. If you looked at the margins of my school notebooks, you’d see vines and flowers and leaves.
Why flowers? I had no idea. They were just what came out of my hand. About a year ago, the significance dawned on me.
Like so many others, life has not been an easy path for me. I’m no stranger to anxiety and depression, beginning with panic attacks as an 8 year old. BUT, art has always been my way of escaping to something more beautiful.
And art usually equaled flowers, right?
About a year ago, a strand of my hair fell onto the bathroom counter and landed in a perfect spiral. It looked EXACTLY like the spirals in my loose floral paintings of late. It stopped me in my tracks – I wasn’t having a great day – and I instantly saw the parallel between the spirals on my canvases and the spirals on my head.
I love flowers and nature because of their consistency, their reliability, their quiet assuredness. Flowers and nature don’t lie. They don’t rush. There is a divine blueprint for them.
And when that spiral of hair landed on the counter, I realized there was a divine blueprint for me, too. Maybe I was more than the lies I’d been led to believe by society and people close to me. Maybe I was a beautiful creation with a divine blueprint, too.
All this time I’d been painting flowers without knowing why – just letting them come out of my hand for years. I started crying tears of knowing. The flowers were there to tell me that I was not a hot mess. I was as beloved and perfectly created as the flowers in nature.
All the flowers. My God winks for decades, patiently waiting for me to recognize their significance. I’ll keep being a cheerleader for them as long as they’d like to keep coming out of my hands.
I recognize this may sound a bit out there, a bit woo-woo. But it’s the magic and spirituality of intuitive art that I love the most. Thanks for indulging me by reading this far.