Light at the end of the tunnel- something which makes you believe that a difficult or unpleasant situation will end.

I feel this exact sensation today, however not to the extent of its definition for I I know it will be short lived. No sense in dwelling in such negativity, I am simply going to embrace feeling lighter today. I say lighter not metaphorically for I sincerely feel so much lighter, a weight definitely lifted off my shoulders- yet I know this is impossible but strangely still very possible. Anyhow, my piece too endured some of the brightness of my day :). I painted some pinks and lighter shades onto it. It is still overwhelmed by darkness which is appropriate because only a hint of me feels better. Perhaps its due to all this writing, all this releasing onto paper (or blog I should say) and onto canvas. Our current reading Unbearable Weight too is a positive distraction. It is not so much a motivational literature that gives me inspiration to change, but rather a gift in a sense. The gift of knowing there are others out there who completely understand my thought process and give evidence to its existence. It helps me know my thoughts are not crazy and one of a kind. I can't really word what I am trying to say-but reading the book is like reading myself. So often I want to scream and describe how I am feeling to the world because I feel no one knows what its like, but reading the words of Unbearable Weight helps lower my anger and frustration because I now know this book is out there and its spreading the word- my word- to others. 

I know this assignment is not about Susan Bordo's book but in a way it is a perfect depiction of all that I am expelling onto the canvas. All the tangled thoughts which I painted. 

" Women are, literally speaking, slaves to their bodies, and glory in their subjection,...

women are everywhere in this deplorable state... Taught from infancy that beauty is woman's scepter, THE MIND SHAPES ITSELF TO THE BODY, and, roaming round its gilt cage, only seeks to adorn its prison." - Foucault. 

This quote along with many others in the book reminisce in me. My mind constantly conforming to that which my body desires, that which much of culture has made me feel I must adhere to. I had long ago vacated my residence on the nature side of the nature/culture duality and took up residency instead within the culture side. I did all this without conscious effort, without know there were words, organizations, books spoken for such. 

I guess what I paint is my story, a personal history that is recurrent to the present. I paint without words but instead through colors, texture, thickness, force/gentleness, shapes, emotions. Though it relieved my pain mildly I did not find it would help sooth me long term, but I now have hope. This hope resonates from the calmer self I feel today, a self which feels this activity with its combination of blogging is becoming greatly therapeutic. It's as though with each period spent expressing myself, less and less baggage jumps back into my being. To clarify, as I previously blogged, when I engage in painting and then writing about my experience I temporarily feel a sense of relief; but as I also mentioned that feeling is temporary and "the demon" quickly jumps back into me as soon as I seize all efforts. However, over time I am seeing the demon become weaker and hence disallowing all of the negativity to become one with me again. 

I wish I could write as well as Susan Bordo and all other books I have read in the past. Re-reading this causes anger. I can't explain clearly enough what I am trying to say, yet all articles and books that I read ALWAYS word everything so perfectly, writing their thoughts down effortlessly, correct grammar in tact. Such jealously I feel. 

How do I paint that?