Permission to Paint

Ta da! Did you notice the new name and logo?

It’s what my newsletter will be called from now on, to differentiate it from the therapy side of things. 

When I write, I’m wearing my artist hat.

I will still talk about the same things. In fact, I could have called it Permission to Create and Be Joyful in a World That is Full of Suffering and Grief. 

But then I would lose the alliteration. And it’s a bit long. 

Here’s my Permission to Paint Manifesto.

I paint because I hurt. 

Miraculously, painting transforms my hurt into joy. 

Art heals.

It is not a frivolous thing. 

For the artist, it’s a brave commitment to showing up as you are. 

Looking inside and being willing to see and share what we find is a very vulnerable thing to do. Maybe the most vulnerable thing we can do.

Because somewhere along this process our deepest insecurities WILL come up. Our deepest griefs. 

Feeling our grief is an act of courage. 

Engaging in art with our grief, in spite of our grief, because of our grief is a gift to the world. 

A world that has no idea what to do with grief and is preoccupied with functioning and productivity and comparing and judging.

For the experiencer, art heals when there’s something in the finished product that catches their eye and moves them. 

For the experiencer, art heals when there’s a flicker of recognition that stirs something deep within them that they forgot was there. 

For the experiencer, art heals when it makes them come alive.

Art reminds them there’s more to life than functioning and fitting in. There’s more to them than they give themselves credit for. 

This happens at all levels of art, not just the highly sophisticated, technically well-executed art that hangs in museums. 

If you’re willing to look deeply and honestly, your art has the power to heal. Both yourself and whoever experiences it. 

Your art. Not the art you think you should be able to do or you hope one day to be able to do. 

The art that you can do today. 

It takes courage to do that art. 

It’s scary. It’s incredibly vulnerable. And so worth it. 

The world needs healing. It needs art. Your art. 

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This is why I paint. It’s why I write this newsletter. I try to show up honestly and vulnerably in both. What about you? What’s your creative outlet? How do you engage with your grief? What’s your main obstacle in staying creative? Use these questions as journal prompts, or better yet, drop me a line to let me know. It truly makes my day to connect with you. Also, if you know another artist, please forward this email to them. I guarantee they need reminders of why it’s so important to keep doing what they’re doing. We forget. I want to remind them, as I remind myself: there’s more to your art than any finished piece. 

With love and support,

Mary B. 

P.S. The Journal Doodle Circle is on hiatus for the summer. I strongly believe journaling and doodling are powerful entryways to our deeper selves. Please keep journaling and doodling this summer! I will too. 

P.P.S. If your joy needs a boost, you can read some of my previous newsletters here. Warning: they may also remind you of your grief.