Page 285 - She's One Crazy Lady!

myself caught between life and death, light and dark, banished into an unknown place – between night and day. The illness forced itself into my life where there was no place for it. The arrival of illness stole a place and time that should have been destined for better things.”
Michele was invited to exhibit his work at a conference in 1996 that had the title: ‘Cancer Care – More Than Medicine’. His presentation then was very moving and he was voted “top speaker” – hence he became a very popular speaker and in demand. He was passionate about wanting to share his personal journey with cancer to inspire and support people in similarly frightening situations and enlighten and guide others to a different and better understanding.
When I looked at his work on display, and with my love of art, I immediately signed up for his workshop. I had to know more about this man!
Oh, my goodness! What a session it was!
With such passion, Michele talked us through his paintings and the ‘days and nights’ of his cancer journey. He read us a beautiful story about a bird, a little tern who, one day, suddenly and unexpectedly lost the power to fly and how, with the help and support of all his friends, regained the ability to fly once more – the message being the tern wasn’t alone – the tern was surrounded by friends who all wanted to support him. Michele then read us a short story written for children called; “The Soul Bird” by Michal Snunit which told of the relationship between ourselves and our soul, writing that deep within us lies a soul and in the soul lives a special bird that opens and closes the drawers of our soul – a soul in which lie all our feelings; feelings of anger, jealousy, happiness, love – one for every human emotion. Only the soul bird is able to open the drawers.
We, the group all sat there transfixed yet, a little perplexed for what Michele was saying was very intense.
“Come with me, let’s go next door.” announced Michele.
Like enthusiastic children we all followed wondering where we were going, and why. The room next door comprised of tables and chairs and on the tables were pots of paint, just the primary colours – red, blue, yellow, black and white – pieces of white A3 art paper, children’s basic paint brushes, mixing palettes and jars of clean water – one of everything for each person. We sat round in groups of four looking bemused.
Michele again... “Now, I’m going to give you seven minutes to find and paint your soul – just seven minutes.” (He explained afterwards that he only gave us seven minutes to stop us thinking too deeply, and that we were to follow the first thought that came into our minds.) We all looked at each other, the clock ticking away. Here we were, adults being asked to paint our soul – in seven minutes? Adults being asked to paint a picture? How do you paint your soul? Not a word was spoken as brushes were tentatively picked up – the head of mine coming away from the wooden shaft leaving me to paint with one and a half inches
“Here we were, adults being asked to paint our soul – in seven minutes? Adults being asked to paint a picture? How do you paint your soul?
Not a word was
spoken.
”
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