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

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Drawing movement brings me Light

dessin-moi-5-wuafbaI’ve been hibernating for months now., I haven’t fed my blog,  written, danced, or even moved much (as in exercise)… but I’m still alive and I still need to draw dancing bodies, and also to dance myself. This need started gnawing at me again, waking me up and pulling me out of my lethargy. Unconsciously, I knew needed to dive back into this practice and slowly, I started to draw lines of a picture that I had  set aside of a ballerina in movement.

Every day, for weeks, I drew it, even if only for a few minutes. It brought my energy back, and I started to want to move again, to dance, to draw dancers… to enter into the dance of life! It’s amazing what an impact drawing dance has on my soul!

I feel an urgent need to find images of nude bodies dancing in order to carry on with this art-therapy journey. This powerful pull towards drawing dancing bodies allows me to feel at one with their movements, to release me from my fears that stop me from moving myself.

Because of my Multiple Sclerosis, walking or even moving have become challenging, and just going to a dance class can sometimes feel more like preparing for an expedition, but amazingly, drawing dancing bodies helps make it real… it takes on the colour, the  sound and the smell of a pleasure-filled trip to the beach, the feeling of a passionate desire to live, and to breathe! And it gives me the strength and the desire to move and to dance, as long as I can draw it I feel like I can do it!

I really want to draw dancing bodies with reduced mobility, or anyone else like me who has difficulty with movement, people  in contact with the fragility of their body (poor health, handicaps, etc.).

I keep thinking of Dave St. Pierre, a dancer who was diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis, and who has this amazing energy, and a profound need to constantly defy the limits, to laugh at statistics, and to keep overcoming the barriers in dance, and the limits of the body. He doesn’t care about political correctness… he dares to always go further, to innovate, to shake up public insecurities, to show light where some see only fire. He has my profound admiration for daring, for his constant electrifying energy dedicated to not just face up to fears, but to smash down the walls of our minds. And he does all this with a body weakened by Cystic Fibrosis, always knowing that he will probably die young (35 years is the average). Fortunately, he received a pulmonary transplantation and he continues to pursue his dance projects, often working on several at a time.

I am asking for your help. If you have images of people dancing, ideally nude in order to be able to really feel and experience the movement while drawing, please dare to send them! They will go no further as the goal is only to draw them, not to expose them in any way. It would be a huge support to this art-therapy process, this journey, to help those, like me, whose movements are limited, to nonetheless live with and embrace movement… to join the dance!

– Méli

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