“Leap!” said my watercolors.
“Where?” said I.
But meanwhile, we leapt.
Now, nearly six months later, the watercolor is finished and we live in a different house with a new housemate. We’ve tried on several different modes of employment these past few weeks (certified biofield tuners, caterers, corporate consultants, educators, researchers, personal biofield compatibility consultants) and we have new friends and associates, less furniture, and fewer cumbersome belongings. My heart is full, my head is clear, and I’m so looking forward to the next step. Or leap.
I used to be afraid of horses. But I’m glad this one came to my rescue and appeared on my paper just as I splashed on those complementary colors in a burst of freedom. I never dreamed I could make that faint horse-leap come to life, but it did. Enough so that all could see what I perceived in the swirls and shifts of color.
And for weeks on end, the “spear” in my hand was nothing but a blank spot. Finally, I can see what I clutch in my hand, piercing the brightness before me, so blinding I still cannot see the future. But this pointed jewel of light guides me ever onward, while the trusty steed beneath me powers my journey.
Once again, my watercolor oracle has come through to guide my life, displaying insights my brain is too clumsy to find on its own. The water and paint respond, somehow, to beams of light-intelligence flickering into my life and make them appear before me, teaching, guiding, revealing all that has been hidden. The only requirement is a massive dose of trust. I am not a painter, and yet I am. I paint my life with these energies unseen every day. The colors snag them from the Inner Realms and bring them out where I can see what is unfolding, as I skate along the light frequencies of life’s intricate patterns.