painted words

sometimes i wonder what it would be like to live as a painter.

would it be easier than this thing of creating images with words?

i would have colours then, bright and pale and every shade and hue with which to fill an empty space with brightness.

i would have strokes, broad or thin, richly pattered or intricately traced.

i would have something tangible to show the world.

a canvas that i can hold up, like a child holding up a finger-painting,

see? 

this is what my soul sees...

it's hard to paint with words when i want them to read my soul in just the way i meant it, without any misunderstanding. 

i want them to read my painted words, see them in the way i intended from the beginning. 

i wish i could write in paints, that my words would flow from keyboard to screen in a swirling watercolour rush of blues and greens. 

emotion for tone, passion for hues. 

a living paintbrush that could show the world my soul without confusion. 

but i live with words. i'm a writer.

it's day 2 of NaNoWriMo. seven thousand words swirl with life and fire and so much colour that it threatens to overflow and spatter the ground with life abundant. 

so i see i'm finding the center, this middle ground between paint and ink. i'm finding the way to make sparks fly from keyboard ticks. i'm learning to let the colours arc outward.

to paint my soul with words so others can look and see

see what my soul sees

in black and white

and technicolour. 

{linking today with dear emily and others for this moment of imperfection}

knit-wise

{via pinterest}

i don't knit. i wish i did.

right around this time of year, my mind turns to pondering my love of soft yarn and just how a pair of knitting needles might feel clicking against my palms.

i like the way knitted things smell. that rich aroma of softness and the love that was poured into each stitch.

 i like the concept of being able to create something that could benefit others.

a treasure to help keep them warm, to bring a little smile as they hold something comforting and made with their heart in mind.

but then i remind myself that i have more than enough things that take up my time without adding knitting to my list.

that doesn't keep me from my thoughts as my finger run over a precious pair of creamy fingerless gloves from a dear friend, or a wedding-gift blanket from my aunt.

knitting feels so intimate.

the joining of things once apart, individual strands that once meant very little. making some beautiful with the caress of our fingers.

for You created my innermost being. You knit me together in my mother's womb.

i praise You for i am fearfully and wonderfully made.

{via pinterest}

 i tend to forget that i am intimately forged in the palms of the Carpenter. the One who makes no mistakes. the ultimate Artist. 

this sunset Painter. this mountain Molder. this weeping-willow Weaver.

He knits, too. carefully, purling each stitch together, caressing the material with loving fingers as He saw His masterpiece taking shape. 

knitters don't wake up to discover that their twisted ball of knots has been transformed into something precious while they slept. 

it takes time and work and careful intimacy with the yarn and their fingers. 

it's a process. days, weeks, sometimes even months. 

no accidents here. 

careful craftsmanship only. 

i am more than knots and twisted confusion. 

i am smooth knit-work from the Hand of the Master. 

Watercolour

After a thousand watercolors you will find you have fallen in love with paper and paint. ~Rex Brandt

I wish I was more of an artist.

I took four years of Artistics in high school, but even that was barely enough to scratch the surface of the things I wish I knew.

My favourite medium is watercolour.

It's more than just a damp horsehair brush rubbed against the caked colour pallets.

It's something deeper...richer...more powerful.

There's more to a watercolour painting than first meets the eye.

The colours run, blend, combining together into something far more than the artist could ever have originally anticipated.

That's why my heart races at the sight of a watercolour canvas. You can't always plan ahead. You can't always see the future.

The colours have lives of their own, dancing and flooding together...as if they too had minds and hearts and souls.

I'm blessed to have a watercolour life.

A life that is more than what I can see at first glace...beautifully composed by the most incredibly talented Artist this world has ever known.

I'm a canvas.

Cover me in watercolour.

I really think that everyone should have watercolors, magnetic poetry, and a harmonica. ~The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Théâtre

"Would it be too childish of me to say: 'I want?'; but I do want: theater, light, color, paintings, wine, and wonder..." ~Sylvia Path

I adore the theater.

Those closest to me know that the quickest way to my heart is through the thin cardboard of a ticket stub and the gentle kiss of rose petals against my nose.

I am more than passionate about the arts in general...but there is something so exquisite and breathtaking about the theater. From the time I was twelve years old, it has woven an unbreakable spell over my heart that has yet to break, and I pray it never will.

I love curling into a plush velvet seat, playbill in one hand, my heart pounding with anticipation and excitement as I wait to see what wonders lurk behind the curtains.

I love the soaring orchestra, the heady applause, and the moments that draw me to hysterical laughter and broken-hearted tears in the blink of an eye.

But there is a place in the theater I love more than any other.

Tucked away from the eyes of the public, hidden away behind thick side curtains.

That is my world.

Backstage is the palace to my princess wishes, the closest I will ever get to Narnia.

It's the place where all the magic happens, where adrenaline joins the blood to pump in my veins, and where the smell of sweat and excitement mingle to become intoxicating.

In this corner, my dreams have come to life. I have been to Neverland, stepped into the pages of fairy tales, and seen countless magical moments played out before my eyes.

Last night, I tidied my corner and left it in darkness.

For three months, I will wait and hope and dream...overcome with anticipation...

...before the curtain opens, and the magic comes to life again.