My pain limits many of the things I used to enjoy. When I was younger and less affected, I was an active person who loved to travel, hike, and explore remote natural places. Now my nervous system is so sensitive to this amazing world that avoiding triggers is no longer possible. This leaves me unbelieving, depressed, jealous, and angry- I learned this is grief. Sometimes I lay on the couch, grieving and hurting, and watch the crown of a palo blanco tree sway through the window. I like to imagine I am the tree instead, and think of a cool, crisp morning breeze fluttering through my branches, and tendrils of leaflets twirl and twist in the glimmering light. Sometimes masses of dark clouds gather and my whole trunk thrashes in the wind as big fat raindrops splatter in release of exhilarative monsoon. 

My usual art style requires more focus and mental clarity than I can sometimes provide. For this piece, I dipped brach tips in paint and let the tree and wind guide the movement and form onto paper. I think I am still jealous of the tree, but it feels a little bit better.  

Watercolor and walnut ink on paper.

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