Shroom Beach

Two years ago I painted this piece. It was a rainy Saturday afternoon. Memorial Day weekend plans to soak up the sun were substituted for a lonely afternoon indoors. The television set blaring with the sounds of reggae-rock bands streaming from a California music festival. I should have been watching the crowds of young people enjoying themselves but instead laid on the other side of the house, hiding underneath the bedframe facing the closet. The world had been spinning for some time now. The stress of so many things in my life leading me to this moment. Would someone knock that day? Would I lose my job next week? Is my car going to start? Am I losing another lifelong friend due to the fallout of the election? Will I ever find love again? Who can I call family? All swimming through my head at lightning speed, matching the clouds of rain pouring above the house I had grown into. Is the roof going to hold?  Is her spirit haunting this place? What am I doing with my life? I had never done anything like this before. Yes I have tried everything, twice for the things I didn't like to make sure. I can't tell you how many times I have tried ice cream. It wasn't like I didn't know what I put into my body. I have taken way more and way worse things inside. Usually, though there was some sort of company. Either someone to guide me through or I myself playing guide for others. With friends on a Friday night around the dorms or on a hiking camping trip or music festival or beach time. But never alone. Sure I could set an intention for everything to be wonderful but I began to wonder as the world seemed to cave in more if I had taken too much. Is it possible to overdose? Am I losing my mind? Will I ever recognize that there is a band playing?   Then all of a sudden... I did! I heard music coming from the living room and remembered something. "I have paint supplies!" It seemed that I made a visit to the local store for household supplies and decided to grab a few things for myself. I have always been someone who would want to grab a puzzle book. I didn't like traditional coloring books as they force you to go within the lines. Now I have grown into them with colored pencils. But back to this... I had no clue what I was doing. There were just some tubes of paint and brushes. I don't think I spent more than $10 on the supplies. It took me forever to crawl my way towards them from the bedroom. Everything in the house moving like a video game. I threw an old sheet onto the desk, not even bothering to remove any of the electronic items below first. "Hopefully I don't spill the water," I thought as I shifted the sheet enough to support the canvas upright. I would need to cover an 11x14, which at that time seemed as if it could be miles. I looked out the window through the purple sheer curtains I had just put up weeks before for inspiration. A giant palm sat outside the driveway. It looked nothing like the box of tubes I was now holding. Did that tube say watercolor? I remembered back in elementary school being handed the hardened packet of eight crayons and told to make a lovely scene. I had the vision of the shore in my head, with light brown sand next to blue waves. A simple palm and some birds hanging with the sun. It's a sketch I have done a hundred times at least since. But this was different. This had fire and depth. It has a dolphin coming up for air and a purple sky. It matched my mood at the time, which was royally hurt. Bits of yellow peeking out from beneath the elements to give a highlight to the darkness.  Almost as if the last bit of sunlight going away with a full moon already high above. With each stroke my breathing calmed. I didn't worry about any of those life stresses. I didn't really care about anything other than what this would look like once dry. I scratched my initials in the corner with what black was left on the plastic pallet. Then like anyone would who just had that sort of transformative experience alone, I had a bite to eat and eventually went to bed. The next day I woke up totally forgetting the mess that laid on my desk. The bedsheet managed to save most of the surfaces from any major issues. I carefully moved what items I could aside and placed the new creation flat on the desk to finish drying. It's the same old wooden desk that I use today but still had much of the paperwork from the last occupant inside. Later I would take out a small nail and find a spot in my bedroom to hammer it almost all the way into. I put the creation there, thinking that maybe one day I could get around to painting a normal looking one. It would be a few months later before anyone ever saw the piece in person. Yes I posted it online without much explanation at the time. But at that time nobody came really to visit so I didn't feel the need to hang it in an area where people might be. I didn't really want to show anyone because I didn't feel that confident in the talent, and also wasn't sure if anyone really would accept the creation story behind it. So I made a little folder in my phone to quickly access that day. The folder grew as the pieces did. Most of them didn't need anywhere near this much help in creation. Instead born out of me sitting at an old wooden desk thinking that I should create something today. Some days now it's a piece of art. Some days it's a website or items for a store. Some days it's spent on photos and videos or musical instruments and vocal training. There are days I am able to create body movement and some even when the most I can muster is to background watch Youtube videos while hunting for memes.  It's important to make something with each day of our lives. That's what happened to me on that Saturday is I made something. It's just a little funny to me when people look at it and immediately exclaim "That looks like a mushroom!"   Haha yeah I guess it does.