Again?! I have to do this…again? Just when I think I’m “done” releasing, more comes to the surface. More stuff. More things to work through. Now, however, instead of hitting me in the face in a meeting, it comes to me as a painting.

This most recent lesson culminated in a massive painting over - a weeding out - of a woman in one of my paintings. I had worked it nearly to death, and was at my wits end. She had been staring at me from the canvas for a few weeks. I was desperate; bound and determined to keep her in!

But as you can see in this video, I did NOT!

The origin

I had been playing with concepts in Canva, my own photographs of calla lilies integrated with women. I’m in love with the concept of “angels in the calla lilies” and feel like women must be integrated into the flowers - strong, bold women as beautiful strong flowers - and know that this is exactly the right message for the Divine Feminine which I’m on a mission to portray.

I had finished 6 paintings, with two others nearly done, both 30x40 gallery wrap canvases.

They were looking good, and I was excited. My personal deadline? April 1.

However, one of them was bothering me. Big time.

The woman in the top position was too…something. (Not what you see in the video - that was after I worked it over for a bit, and her last breath of existence.) I had been staring at it for a while, not wanting to admit to myself that there was a problem. Ugh.

The Timeline

Saturday

Last Saturday, I made the decision to face the issue. To dig deep and understand what was wrong, and to fix the problem. Finally. I was determined to end the standoff. We were going to do battle (that’s what it felt like at least in my chest, my stomach - all over).

I stood there, brush in hand, staring at the painting, and felt a shimmer of panic. What was actually wrong? If I don’t know what’s wrong, how do I fix it?

As I was noticing a shortness of breath and reminding myself to actually breathe, MacKenna (my brilliant daughter from SAIC) called. Divine intervention. I was relieved to have something else to focus my attention on. She asked what was up, and I explained the situation (she had heard this same issue about the same painting the week before, so was familiar).

She said (once again) “send me a photo.” I demurred, telling her I was too embarrassed for her to see. She said, “oh come on! I can help!”

Well, I sent her the photo. Side note: I have to say that MacKenna can draw and paint faces like nobody I know. She has been doing it her entire life, and is an absolute pro.

What followed: she coached me from afar for a few hours, sending me screen shots of fixes, guiding me through how to solve the issues - something with skull, hair, and jaw (I won’t bore you with the details). I literally had the phone on speaker next to my palette, brush in hand, grabbing any color I could find as her voice gave me encouragement, tips.

MacKenna did all she could - she even sent me a step by step tutorial she drew out in Procreate on how to add the hair (it’s WAY harder than I thought!).

But the bottom line - it all felt like a major fix at a point in the painting when I just wanted to be…done. Because I had decided…I wanted it OVER.

But rather than calling it quits, I kept at it. More hours. Painting. Breathing. Screaming. Cursing. Dancing. Praying.

And so it continued way past time to let go.

Sunday

Sunday morning: Sean and I are getting ready to head out. Guess where I am? In front of the painting. MacKenna’s tutorial screenshots in my left hand, paintbrush in my right. Proportional tool out. Pastel pencil at the ready. Some ugly, crazy colors involved.

Sean peeks around the corner, lets me know it’s time to go. I’m nearly in tears. What to do? A mess of my own making.

This doesn’t feel fair. It ISN’T FAIR! I’ve done the work! I try so hard!

WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?

Head down, I remember to breathe. Just breathe.

The Small Still Voice

Then I hear the small, still voice, whispering, a caress in my heart:

Just paint over her. The painting needs room to breathe. Just like you. Clarity. Simplicity. Beauty. Just paint over her. All will be well. Let her go. You haven’t lost anything. You learned from your beautiful, patient daughter how to paint hair, which you will use next time. You got to work on Body. On Form. On Angles. On Proportions. Remember, nothing is ever a waste.

And then I raised my head, looked up at the canvas, and knew: yes, I can paint over her. She can leave. And the painting will be perfect.

As I felt the rightness of this move through my body, I felt a giant boulder roll off my chest.

I then heard that same voice:

Film this moment so you can share it with others. You are brave. And this is right. This is the right answer. Share it.

I can honestly admit I didn’t really want to do that. Resistance was really strong. But I asked Sean to come in and film me.

And then I did it. And it felt so good. And right.

the Learning

As I said last week, in art, we are often faced with the decision to keep or let go of certain elements. This process requires discernment, knowing what enhances the artwork and what detracts from it.

This figure had become a distraction. Literally breaking into the composition, looming over the other figure that had come easily. That flowed from me in record time. Perfect proportions, strong harmonious colors.

But you couldn’t see her because the other figure was taking up all of the space. All of the oxygen.

My inner argument: But I had worked so hard! Spent so much time on the composition! In my mind I had finished the painting! My expectation was that I was done!

Yes, I was in love - and determined to make it work. But that small still voice, the discernment I had been so diligently nurturing, knew she wasn’t working. That her presence was detracting from the real message.

Once I saw this in my mind’s eye, I knew that removing her would give the painting room to breathe. The viewer would be able to focus on the figure that was contributing to the painting in a meaningful way. The one that flowed from me so easily. And I could paint more of the calla lily, allowing it to be fully seen and understood.

And the resulting composition would be simpler. Clearer.

And would be exactly right.

Let Go of the Shore and Let the Water Carry You

So the obvious question I’m grappling with: What do I need to let go of in life, that I’ve been clinging to? What is it? How do I find it?

How do you see something that’s hidden? How do you screw up the courage to shine the light in spaces you would rather keep in the dark?

How do you find the fortitude to venture into the unknown, the beckoning wilderness of your heart, the deep recesses of your soul?

You stop. You turn to your higher power. You affirm you are safe. You say Thank You for the blessings that fill your life, both seen and unseen. You forgive.

And you let go, surrendering to the knowing that you are so very loved. Seen. Heard. Known.

Innocent.

Birth the Possibilities

Creating is birthing. It’s literally bringing something new into the world.

And that “new” cannot become if there is no room for it to sprout. To grow. To breathe.

When we let go, we create space for new possibilities, growth, and transformation. It's not about losing; it's about gaining what truly matters.

So what happened?

Well, I painted over her.

Then we cleared out my shoes.

Is there more to release? Yes. Will I resist? Probably. But I know I am getting better at recognizing the signs of clinging. Of forcing things to work out.

And it is absolutely becoming easier to release.

Thank goodness. Because there isn’t much left.

The radical art of releasing