Paint Me Beautiful©️, an artistic creation, and metaphoric expression, from the alignment of the soul to the life we express through the stories of emotions we call the truth.

With each vulnerable moment of revealing the unfinished process there comes a reflection of judgement. “Is it good or bad?” is not to be the why to this expression of the art and the creativity of these words.

What has appeared is the ability to want to explain self and reasoning beyond the words that like art is open to interpretation. We all want to create something to be a someone at some point, even if it’s the rebel. The need to be the rebel came from somewhere. What if we are both that which we dislike in another, and that which we adore in another? Yet we can only express it in the reflection of another. Allowing expression to become words.

I was once so mad at my partner that my words painted an ugly picture and my mind wanted to paint a painting that revealed anger and rage. Yet, as the art unfolded the painting revealed a beautiful face and when others saw it, they would comment that it looked like Jesus. It looked like love and by the time I was done I felt love and acceptance that the unmet expectation of my own mind was not met, and this is called, disappointment, which looks and feels a whole lot different.

What if we could allow the pixels of colour to create new thoughts from the wild imagination? You can. In allowing yourself freedom to seek new possibilities to the thoughts that become words. Paint Me Beautiful©️ or the ownership and responsibility of my own emotions, thoughts, and healing of More Than Existing™️ didn’t start by looking into others, but into myself. The harshness was revealing itself as many little isms. I originally believed opinions and criticism were not affecting me until I could see myself in the art. A truth of the self reflection appearing as pain and hurt, yet I didn’t have the same level of compassion for myself as I did for others. I would always go to work trying to fix me, yet in the meantime I would step back, and disappear. Finding every word and reason to validate why “they” were right.

Rooms full of paintings started to talk back to me, guiding me to paint my truth. The truth that the thoughts of others expressed as judgment and my need to improve myself based on the judgment was called punishment.

Channeling the Divine through art gets you lost in the layers. No plan, just pure trust. Listening and allowing the emotions to flow. Revealing the good, bad, and ugly of the moments. When I hear, “Paint me beautiful”, I know the thoughts are in an ugly place and the Divine within is about to turn the story around. Self observation with awareness of the importance to caring about your own feelings, finally coming to understand that your feelings matter. Flowing to the place where magic exists, and white light and love, become colour all stemming as God does from the one source. Yet, like the ability to think the imagination into creation, the creator is you, me, us!

We become the creator of the story. The experiences create the colour and the human ability to apply emotions, paints the picture. One we often can’t believe, yet that which we need to give a face to always leads you back to observe with the human eyes that which can only be seen from the experiences of the past and the emotional response turned to words, painting a picture of the worlds we want to see. The dark night of the soul journey tipped the balance.

What was once truths were blended in lies. What is a truth? Who knows!

The shadow is not the enemy, the mind is, and the legacy of words turned to stories that are of half truths, unintentional and intentional words that’s translated from a limited perspective, called a lie. The shadow is yet that which walks ahead or behind your truth. Little white lies create the dominating factor that leads to the layers of your mask and the ability to only look into another to compare. Like the little kid who lives with the guilt of taking something that was not theirs to take.

A story of compassion and comparison.

Why do you act out the impulse of the shadow’s ability to imprison?

“I only took a few candies” was the original thought as it then compared itself to someone who as an adult took a truck that didn’t belong to them yet claimed they were only taking it for a ride. The one who stole the candy may have had a list of reasons to judge the person taking the truck, while still justifying having taken the candy. But the judgement is the same for the one who took the truck and for the little one who still had a story of candies in their heart. 

The identity created provides the right of passage to compare the experience and not the act of denying the soul’s call of applying the whole virtue as truth. Now this reflection for another may not appear as a candy or a truck, it may not be material at all. It may be the stealing of someone’s self confidence with what you call teasing, yet they feel it as criticism.

You don’t know how much effort it may have taken to wear the mask of confidence while trying to “fake it until you make it”. You may have been the thief more times than you care to know. Yes, that’s how I see the world, blended with hearing what people are not saying. Pretending used to be my life, not anymore.  I don’t call it out.

My hope is that my stories inspire others to see themselves with enough compassion to want to discover the Divine within. To become whole or holy enough to know they are not that which exist in the minds of others. Forever forgiven by the Divine but high expectations of another leads to the story that one is better than the other. Yet both denied the soul.

Through creative expression, I could see the fall from grace and the ending of the “claim to fame” moment as I coin it. The ability to see with judgemental eyes led to stories that were not fully true. Maybe I was not as “good” as I told myself, but that was always the words that allowed me to judge and punish myself.

The Truth was, I had a heart crying out for me to be good to myself because it knew I was judging another when no one was looking. I had placed fingers down my throat for too many years for the words I heard when I just wanted to be heard and valued. Yet here we are looking at the art we devalue which would be self.

If you could see what I could see you would never act out the doubts, fears, and judgement. You would not need to allow vices to guide you or to mask your truth. You would allow the virtues blended into your innate authentic self to be that which you paint a beautiful picture for each day.

We are all a little of the same. How we reveal it will always paint a picture that is open to interpretation. Living vulnerable is not for another, but so that I don’t live as if I have something to hide.

This is the version of me. I am everywhere. Not the image of picture, but the creator of imperfect art called a living each and everyday. Every moment starts with a thought then a choice, and if I am lucky, another breath.

I chose to paint myself beautiful so that I could see the beauty everywhere.

Much love,
Corrie