Early this morning my friend moved through the doorway of this life and into the realm of whatever lies beyond. And because making paint is meditative to me, that’s what I did for most of my time today.
What comes after
I know everyone has their own ideas about what comes next when a person dies. My own belief is that the end of this life is not a final end, but rather a birthing into another phase of life. Whereas a baby is gestated in the womb of its mother until it is born into this life, similarly, all of us are gestated during this life in the womb of our Earth mother until we are born into the next life.
So the passing of my loved ones don’t cause me grief because they’ve died, but because they’ve moved out of our shared space and into one I can’t access yet. And I miss them. It all feels quite natural and not morbid to me at all. And it’s okay to be sad and miss them while at the same time feeling happy that they’re off on a new journey that offers them a fresh start. Even if it is without me.
Making paint is meditative and allows introspection
So today I did things that allowed me to be introspective. I made paint, which is always a very meditative thing to do. I wrote about it in my color journal at Paleo Paints. And that, too, is a meditative practice. When I needed to change my pace a little, I took a walk and went into the woods, put my hands into the earth and gathered goldenseal and bloodroots to fill an order.
My favorite music to listen to while in this kind of mood is Celtic, and so I put some Loreena McKennitt on.
Cataloging the Pigments
I’m trying to take better notes about what I’m doing with the Ozark pigments. I have a few entries into my color journal now. This color journal is both virtual at Paleo Paints and IRL, in a huge book here in my studio/office. Today’s color was made with red sandstone. I’ll name one of these colors after Michele, in her memory. Here’s the story board I made for it.