I thought painting in a lavender field would be peaceful, picturesque, even. What I got instead was sunburn, melting chocolate, fast-drying acrylics, and a hot, irritable inner critic. Still, there was something honest in it. The bees buzzed like wild punctuation around me. The colours bled and bloomed in the heat. And eventually, my hands started moving with the field rather than against it.
This week’s Painting Out Loud poemcast is less about perfection and more about presence. About what it means to follow the light, literally and creatively, without knowing where it’s leading. I believe the land holds knowledge, and the lavender that day reminded me: even when it’s uncomfortable, there’s something worthwhile in showing up. Especially when it makes no sense.
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