Perseverance

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This morning, I felt like dancing! I made a few moves in front of the mirror, and in my hallway. It just felt good… I felt free!

I also drew for a little while… very little though… I very quickly become discouraged when I can’t make it look that way I want it to. And I am just learning, so you can imagine that my drawings seem childlike.

But unlike a child, I take it way too seriously! It takes me so much time to draw because I don’t want to make any mistake and then I have to start all over again! I watch myself getting frustrated and suddenly I realize how funny it is! It is by practicing, by trying again and again that we learn! How many times does a toddler fall on its bum while learning to walk?

I find it so hard to draw and to add colour once the lines are drawn! So often, I can’t remember how I filled the drawing the last time… but very slowly, I give it a timid try. Not only I am not satisfied, but I just find, again, that what I have done is lost…

But if I let it sit for a while, I realize it’s not so bad, I can erase, and try new lines or add new highlights. And when I dare to try, when I push the fears that paralyze me aside, then, oh! wow! my drawing comes to life! It slowly becomes a pleasure to see it grow, just like a baby.

Last night I was reading about an Indian saint, Mâ Anandamayi, and her writing on the importance of consistently maintaining a practice… whether it be drawing or otherwise; practices bring us to a place of peace.

No matter how hard it often is for me to draw, drawing is becoming more and more an essential part of my life, whether I like it or not. It brings me back to a peaceful state of mind, which is  so precious!

I know, it may seem strange, seeing as I  just described how I would sometimes like to through my drawings out a window… but it really is a wonderful gift!

Perseverance!

– Méli

with loving eyes

This post about body image was inspired by my discovery of a crazy musician who has his own special way of making people’s lives just a little bit better… Marc Vella is a travelling pianist, whose mission in life for the past 25 years, has been to travel around the world with a baby grand piano, park it in the wildest of places, play, and then encourage others with absolutely no musical training to play, too, simply by connecting to their hearts. His message is one of love, and the importance of looking at everyone and everything with loving eyes. What a wonderfully crazy thing to do! You can read more about him at http://www.pianistenomade.com/index.php?l=EN

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I think his message is exactly what we need most to learn, in every aspect of our lives. To look with loving eyes. This is, after all, simply an attitude applied from the inside-out… requiring only a change of perspective and resulting in the kind of non-judgemental acceptance that frees us from what separates us from ourselves and each other.

Apply this to body image issues and it’s a no-brainer, right? Maybe, maybe not, but changing our perspectives is a practice, it does not come in a pill. It struck me today that by choosing to take my own self-portraits to draw from,  (to avoid having someone else look at me through the camera lens) something could be missing. In many cases the photos taken by others seemed more gentle than mine, because the people closest to me who took the pictures (a few close girlfriends and my male partner) were ALREADY looking at me with love. So then the translation into a drawing was not so harsh, because I could already see the beauty in the photograph.

I suppose that starting out doing self-portrait photography on my own to helped to break down the pride, the resistance, the need to APPEAR perfect. I have always had a complex about my weight, even when I was stick-thin I thought I could somehow be better. This drawing was done almost 6 years after the photograph was taken by a female friend of mine. I thought, at the time, that I was huge (good example of body dimorphic or dysmorphic disorder), as I had gone from being too thin due to anorexic behaviours to having a little meat on my bones because of eating more compulsively. But because of the skewed way I saw myself, this extra weight, in my mind, made me unattractive. Since I didn’t get around to drawing this one until I was another 25 pounds heavier, in hindsight, I can see how ridiculously off my vision was. From my new viewpoint of today, suddenly the “offensive overweight” picture had become the “when I was thin and lovely” picture”.

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When I consider all the suffering going in the world, be it the devastation from natural disasters and wars in less developed countries, to apparently healthy, young people around me dying of cancer or the many people chained to addictions or living, hungry, on city streets, it embarrasses me to be plagued with such an apparently superfluous and fixable dis-ease as being obsessed with my looks, when in fact, I am healthy and beautiful!

I know now that none of us chooses to be anorexic, bulimic, or to suffer from compulsive or binge eating. All of these labels are the outer manifestation of deeper psychological suffering. And, if all this inner pain has pushed me to look at myself and all people with love rather than maintaining the separateness of the human condition that leads to loneliness and wars, perhaps it is not such a bad thing.

– Colette

Exposing our vulnerabilities to ourselves

CCseins_wuafbaI don’t want anyone to see my dark side or my weaknesses. I want to look my best, perform my best, be nice, please others… all the time. To a fault.

But it gets pretty painful working so hard to meet such unrealistic expectations. It’s a heavy load to carry. It’s so much better if we can learn to accept ourselves just the way we are.

Drawing myself has helped me to do that. While I’m drawing (and a detailed image like this one requires many hours of looking back and forth between the photograph and my translation of it), I start to see clearly both the beauty and the flaws, the strengths and the weaknesses.

As if only by exposing everything can I embrace who/what I am. Hiding from my faults does not help me appreciate my strengths… whether they be related to character or appearance… I am what I am!

Flowing from within this very simple process of drawing, these little moments of discovery arise… a kind of “so what”? attitude comes in, which is actually the letting go of the perfectionism that usually haunts me.

I soften and accept. I see, for once, without judging.

These breasts that were such a disappointment when I was unable to produce enough milk for my babies are no longer a liability. They’re a part of me, imperfect like everything else, and yet perfectly fine just the way they are. As I age and see other women, friends and family, faced with the challenges of cancer, I am humbled and I’ve learned to treasure these breasts I once despised.

Drawing has helped my be grateful for this body, my body.

– Colette