acrylic abstract painting by emily weil

daily painting | storms

I think I’ve written about this before so if this is a repeat — well, too bad. After my first sister died several years ago I became a bit obsessed with the death process (I haven’t really moved along from that). I read every book I could get my hands on about NDEs, Near Death Experiences. Some were boring or preachy but the book I liked the most, Dying to Be Me, by Anita Moorjani, stayed with me. After her NDE she returned to this life knowing she had to be herself — fully. She had a very courageous journey which inspired me.

As I’m in this rock-tumbler of life experiences and losses right now, I am inspired by Ms. Moorjani’s book. In grief there aren’t milestones or street signs or maps and I am bumping along. But the main thing for me today is to be the most technicolor me I can be. Without apology, and with audacity and fierceness. I am certain I piss people off and I am annoying and cranky (think Roy Kent in the TV show Ted Lasso, who has a marvelous growl). I’m fine with that. I call on my sisters to both support me from wherever they are and to come get my dying brother before he truly suffers. I have some wispy moments where I feel them with me and they comfort me from the unseen world. I’m hardly alone in this experience of loss but everyone grieves in their own way and today my way is to be pissed off, defending my territory, pushing back on anyone who says my emotions are wrong and I should move along. That’s OK. I worry about my mental health but my therapist says I’m fine. I choose to believe her, because the last thing I feel is fine — my emotions flip upside down every 10 mins and rocket all over the landscape. Completely incorrigible, they are. Last week I was over the moon about a possible overseas trip in December and the next morning was so sad I couldn’t stop crying (to be fair, it was my sister’s birthday). So far the seat belt is holding.

30″ x 24″ acrylic, oil pastel on stretched canvas= $950

 

 

 

acrylic abstract painting by emily weil

daily painting | 2020

Wacky wanderings is how I’d describe my world today. I’m finishing up the book, Proof of Heaven, about a neurosurgeon who had a near death experience (NDE) and writes about his journey into a place of love and joy and acceptance and connection to the divine while he was in a coma he wasn’t supposed to recover from. I couldn’t put it down, and it’s making me rethink everything, and in a good way. I’ve had faith for most of my life in a spiritual presence or higher power or Spirit or God (though I don’t like that term, it connotes male patriarchy and confining religiosity). Reading more about NDEs (I’m going back to the library for more) is boosting my beliefs and giving me more confidence to have faith and trust in the divine, western intellectual culture be damned. It’s like I’m learning that what I’ve always hoped to be true but was afraid to completely believe is real — there is an unseen, miraculous world that our limited human brains cannot access. A world of Spirit and consciousness and a loving, supporting, expanding universe. Because I’m in a stage of life where my “past is growing and my future is shrinking,” and because of recent deaths of my sisters, all these other-worldly concepts are on my mind, and I’m finding I’m in a place of, “Oh eff it, I’m going to leap off that cliff into total surrender and faith.” A place not exactly supported in our culture, but a stance that deeply comforts and encourages me. So, there. I’m reaching more deeply into my beliefs, dammit. It’s not a popular way of thinking, here in this world. But I’m more convinced every day that there is a higher being (or beings) that support me in this human life. And today I consciously choose to practice radical trust. This is difficult for me to share, as it makes me feel vulnerable. So I hope you are OK with that.

Which is kinda related to this painting. I took an older abstract I wasn’t crazy about and made a new one out of it. I’m doing larger works these days, as the over-sized canvases are better at holding all the swirling emotions that whip through me these days. I titled this painting “2020” as it felt appropriate. It contains all the roiling, messy feelings from that ridiculously crazy, painful year.

55″ x 65″ acrylic, oil pastel on canvas (stretched) = $4900