Part 2 of 2
The day after, Paul and I look back on his “painful arm story,” and something interesting happens.
As we enjoy our first cup of coffee after breakfast, we reflect on how well we are doing and share what concerns us.
I told him something about what I encountered while painting the day before.
Tears suddenly roll down my cheeks out of nowhere. ‘Don’t mind me. I don’t understand where this is coming from either,’ I say uncomfortably, wiping the tears from my face.
Paul looks at me somewhat surprised. ‘It may just be there,’ he says lovingly.
‘I still find myself dependent on your reaction and that of others to my painting creations. If I don’t hear: ‘Oh, how nice,’ then I don’t know how quickly I have to paint over it. It reminds me of the reactions I had during drawing lessons in primary school. Every time the teacher said we were going to draw or paint, I got a stomach-ache. It just didn’t look like a tree or a dog when I tried to draw. And I still think so. Actually, it was quite courageous of me to start an intuitive painting course a year and a half ago.’
Paul smiles and I continue: ‘Yesterday, I had the urge to stop completely. I know this about myself and know it’s an escape route to avoid emotions I don’t want to feel. But painting helps me to enjoy just being busy with paint and to let go of what the finished work will be. Just to be curious about what unfolds when I apply layer over layer. No, I’m not going to give up. And I’m also going to try to stop using the creations of others as a benchmark.’
Paul is still listening carefully, and I say, ‘How nice to share this. I feel relieved, and it opens up some space.’
How I love him, I think to myself. The safer I feel, the more I show of my true self. Especially when he is so present. In fact, when Paul is busy with other things, it doesn’t even occur to me to share something like this. Only when he is fully present, my vulnerability comes to the surface. What a liberation. Isn’t that what everyone longs for? Someone who listens to you like this?
That he sometimes doesn't listen when I try to convince him that he should seek help
for his aching arm, well, I don't blame him. That he does listen in this way is far more important to me.