DAY TWO
I have read tons of books, listened to dozens of audios and watched a huge amount of videos throughout my life but last year I realized that I was never present before, or at least, not often enough. I was living in automatic most of the time, replaying every day the same tapes I had in my head since I was a child.
Last year, while working with my coach, something clicked and I think it was the fact that this coach showed me a picture of myself that I had never seen. She showed me who she saw in me, what I had to offer, what I had inside and seriously I did not know this person… and the worst part is, I liked that person she saw in me.
I did not know who I was before because I seriously did not see the good stuff about me. I was not taught how. Nobody ever showed me how to like me, how to love me, how to appreciate me or what I do and this coach did it in just a couple of months. She guided me to the right books, the right videos, the right audios and the most important thing: she taught me how to be present by giving me homework. My God, I think back and I cannot believe how horrible I was, not because I was bad but because I was so lost! I had no idea I was living in the dark, always expecting the worst out of everything and everybody, always thinking people were out to get me, never hoping and not believing in miracles. Sad…
To give you a little bit of background, I was born in a family of two boys and two girls, I am the youngest. My mother, a lab technician who met my dad at the hospital where they both worked, was always very artistic even though she did not know how good she was. My father, a medicine doctor, of course did not have that “artistic” gene, so he never understood any of it. When I was in elementary and high school, I was always chosen to paint posters for events, or decorate a wall for the upcoming season among other things and I loved that but to my parents, that was not important. I loved music and poetry and that of course also made me weird according to them. My artistic side was not nurtured at home, so I created this world in my room where I would go to do my art, you know, those useless things that really made me happy like writing poems, painting or playing the guitar. But at the time, I only had access to what my parents had around, so I stole the bar soaps to carve faces and animals for the fun of it (to later throw them away afraid of being punished if my parents knew I was wasting soap), I used any paper I found to draw and color, I made stuff with little things, like pictures with grains of rice and beans when my mom was cooking. I remember I painted beaches with palm trees on 1 cent coins, can you believe that? I carved my friends’ names on chalk that looked like they had been made with a mold, I drew caricatures of my teachers and friends, created sculptures out of anything but most important than anything to me was to watch what my mother made. I always tried to imitate her because she took arts and craft classes all the time. Even though my dad did not appreciate her talent, she still managed to take classes all the time and she enjoyed every minute of it. I loved watching her make things and I studied all of her moves to do the same things she did. My world was all about creating and she was doing it right in front of me all the time, so I learned how. When I was creating, I was in heaven.
Thought of the day:
“Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.” Pablo Picasso
