The Color of Memory
The texture of longing. Taking a look inside my brain on February 7, 2019.
I just feel like writing. That feeling like something is missing is looming, but it’s a little different than it has been lately. This time it feels like wanderlust; wishfulness. This one was inspired by Pinterest.
Lately I’ve been observing the energy around my thoughts and memories; the colors and light that invade the frame. It’s incredibly hard to describe; like when you have a dream and it all makes sense as it’s happening, and you can see it in your memory, but as soon as you attempt to describe it to someone, it falls apart. I’ll try, though.
The color around this energy is golden. It’s filled with sunlight and vibrancy. It almost feels like afternoons, but in a positive way. (I typically hate afternoons.) That’s an interesting correlation, because it feels as though thoughts of past afternoons have that dark grey energy, and future afternoons are surrounded in this golden light energy.
I suppose that makes sense, though; toxic nostalgia versus hopeful anticipation. In some ways, this energy feels similar to mania. It feels like those summer days where I’m biking and feeling like not an ounce of negative energy can touch me, and I’m full of hope, determination, and creative energy. It feels like relentless positivity and friendliness.
As I write this, I realize the Adderall is probably kicking in, but it feels good, so I’ll embrace it. I made this decision. I have this prescription, I might as well enjoy it and utilize it.
I just see so much for myself. In the moment, there is a deep sense of longing. That sensation of “something is missing,” feels less like the usual, “something is wrong,” and more like, “I’m so close to what I want to be, but I’m not there yet.” It feels like I know what I want to do and who I want to be, but I’m not doing it. It feels like I’m spending my energy in the wrong places. It feels like I should be holing up in my room with the windows open, just painting for hours; big, beautiful strokes. It feels like large canvases filled with images birthed from my gorgeously intricate mind. In some ways, it feels like writing. It feels like meticulous articulation and poetry. It feels like sharing all of this with the world. Not for money, not as a career, but for the sake of contributing to the ever-necessary culture that is art, love, movement, and creation.
A friend told me she gets up early and writes 3 pages every day. I need something like that in my life again. Whether it be writing, drawing, painting, sculpting, maybe even making music; a minimum of 30 minutes of non-work creativity every day. That’s completely manageable, and my soul has been deprived of it as of late.
The most important thing out of all of this, is that I’m doing it for myself. The energy that I describe above is that of confidence and empowerment; it radiates beauty and self-love. That’s what I’m missing. I’ve been hyper-focused on fear, envy, and doubt lately that it’s eating me from the inside. That needs to change, and it’s up to me. So, it begins now. I’ll ask God every day for the space to create; for Them to work through my mind, my eyes, my hands; to free me from the darkness.