If my assistant is listing my paintings for sale that means I have let them go. Sometimes I don’t have courage to post them with a price. I’m not afraid of pricing, I’m afraid of selling, the sale, the moment a trade is made and my artwork belongs to someone else…although is suppose it doesn’t actually belong to any of us.
But what if I miss it? What if I wish I never gave them away and I could hold into them forever and ever, my painted memories of my colorful life? Can’t I please never forget my life? Or instead perhaps, I’ll share my life. Perhaps sharing the joy will amplify the memories and deepen the richness of these fleeting experiences. They were never mind. They are ours only when shared.
Today I am like monkey. Grab grab grab, I’m collecting all the pretty things as I walk down the street. Pretty dress, pretty top, pretty spoon.
The dogs are rugged here; disheveled fur, bony legs, crooked ears, sidewalks turnabout walking gates, pooing in the middle of the sidewalk (because nobody to tell them otherwise…they free dogs), and sleeping lazy in the afternoon sun on doorsteps and storefronts.
Sometimes a bright flashy scooter drives by; turquoise paint job, spicy red metal and even metallic gold! These ones stand out amongst the thousands of beat up, janky dirty black grey scooters. They all seem to work the same, getting us around the little cobbled streets. It’s relaxing to live in a world where flashy stands out more than grungy. It takes the pressure off. I don’t feel pressure to present myself in any certain way. I feel liberated from worries of my appearance. Shopkeepers Lay on the floor if there are no customers. Construction workers don’t wear hard hats or yellow vests. I see no uniforms and no police. Everyone seems to be left alone to be living casually.
Is this Bali or is this my inner work paying off? Perhaps Bali is the outer world finally matching my inner world, equilibrium between my soul and my surroundings.
Love & Rainbows, Cha Wilde