Smiling again!

The most poignant part of my summer occurred on a Sunday night, looking out bay windows onto the moonlit shore of Lake Superior.

Matt and I were curled up in front of a cozy fire over the hearth, and he looked at me — near to tears — and thanked me for my smile. In that tender moment, after a day of adventures on Minnesota's North Shore, my beloved admitted to me that he once feared he would never again see me smile.

But there I was, smiling! Not just any tooth-bearing grin, but instead a naturally-occurring and genuine expression of happiness.

And guess what? I am still smiling!

So after these many months I have spent staring into the depths of my subconscious, let me share with you some lightness of spirit, and something to make you smile.

"The Way"
In some Buddhist circles, it is called the "Tao," the path of life that is in harmony with the natural order of the world.

For me, experiencing nature and being in harmony with the world around me have been central to recovering from my grief. That's not to say that I don't have bad days anymore, because I do.
I suppose on some level I always will. It is through nature, though, that I was reunited with my youthfulness and my lightness of spirit over the summer.

Dig back in these archives to learn how many state parks we traveled to in the span of a few months. Gaze upon photographs to see how often Matt and I frolicked on the lake shore. And look into my eyes to learn how deeply these natural pursuits were able to rejuvenate my mind and soul.

The natural scenes where I spent my time were nothing short of beautiful! Time slowed when we engaged in all-day adventures in the woods, the sun and stars shown more brightly when we took the time to marvel at their distance, and peace seeped into my body when I gave myself the space to feel such depth of emotion.

That beauty stays with us through albums of music we brought home from the North Shore, played on a wood flute and acoustic guitars that were carved out of Birch wood. Radiant sun rays continue to touch my shoulder on quiet, thoughtful evenings, and the cool weather carries, for me, the aura of a calming embrace.

Life as an artist
The woman who I was before encountering such deep grief would have taken a pen to paper on the hardest days, letting the pain flow out into lyrical poetry. And though I have written a few poems since the accident, this has not been my fine art of choice in recent months.

When I struggled to accept "business as usual" after the crash, I also struggled to pick up my pen. The ink for my poems ran dry and my journal suffered months of deplorable neglect.

Then I found something better: A paintbrush.

I have Matt to thank for this beautiful hobby that we have picked up since the spring of 2011. It was his idea, when he spontaneously exclaimed that he wanted to try painting on one ordinary Saturday. At the time, I looked at him like he was crazy, like this was just another one of those things that men do: Conjure up a new project. Start it. Then serendipitously move on to the next!

Man, was I wrong!

Both Matt and I started painting, and both Matt and I have continued painting, coming to our canvases whenever we have a free moment or an inspired idea. While he paints abstracts, I almost always attempt to bring nature inside, painting representational sunsets with the sweep of my hand.

It is a feeling like no other: Balancing the beauty of color on the tip of a delicate brush, then pulling it in flourishes across a cotton frame!

When my nerves can't be stilled and I long for the natural world outside of my home and my office, I pour paint in piles onto a palette and hustle them onto the canvas. Then in the evening, when all is quiet, including my own mind, I dip a small slanted brush into black paint and tenderly build trees out of light brush strokes.

Sometimes, as I look into those trees, I even think of my late brothers and my late parents. I envision the family standing together in solidarity on the edge of a rocky shore, or I marvel at the strength of each tree branch — not unlike the strength of my mother or the enviable confidence of my twin brothers.

Here, with a palette before me and colors to spare, I am with them, with their spirit, feeling their love. And all it takes is an instant to change course and be transported away from the memory and the pain, into the harmony of the natural world. 

My love of painting has become so great that I intend to enter into competitions and art shows in the coming year.

Most of all, these pursuits have helped me to regain my youthfulness, at least in part, and to once again love life. Life is full of not just the most crippling challenges, but also the most uplifting opportunities!