“I was trying to figure out just what was true. Here I am, an individual, just me, for the first time in my adult life.”

This was the fastest painting I painted. It was done in five hours. Probably that’s because I’ve known Carol so well, and because she let me in. Years after she left to drive across the country, I wrote this poem.

Her Path to Ajo

Her sun and moon tattoo was still fresh
Heart-centered, skin raised.
Some wounds heal more slowly.
She invited me over to see it.
To see her,
To witness her story.
Each word a droplet of sorrow,
like the summer rain outside.
Unexpectedly becoming a deluge.

But even the heaviest waters recede, eventually.
Leaving a history of carved stone.
Through tiny fissures new life emerges.
And the eye of the storm
provides temporary shelter
Where breath returns.

Motionless
like a glass mobile hangs.
Heavy limbs become sheets,
become pillows, become couch.
Seated in her power,
restoring, remembering,
resurrecting, rebirthing.
Embodying her truth.
Her pug protectors watching
east and west, day and night
so that she can rest.
She will need it, for her journey
through the desert will be long.
But that is where she will find
new life,
her tribe.
Like a mirage, only real.

 

Jeffrey Dorsey

I had been separated from my husband at that point for at least a year and a half. We had been married for—thirty years we were together—and I decided to leave. I was trying to figure out just what was true. Here I am, an individual, just Carol, for the first time in my adult life. That’s Harley on top and Kashi sitting on the couch. Kashi is no longer with me. He passed… it’ll be three years on March 16th. And Harley will be 15 on April 4th. We are walking the last leg of her journey right now.

A good friend of mine pointed out to me, she says, “I don’t know if you realize, but you have used Harley to learn how to give and accept love.” And I look at that picture now, and they come across to me as different versions of myself. They are alternate versions of me that I just haven’t quite integrated yet. They’re there to remind me and to show me what love and compassion and empathy are. Because I have a lot of compassion and a lot of empathy, but a good portion of that was survival instinct. The place it was coming from was this place of fear. Fear of abandonment, not fitting in, you know?

At that time, people had started talking to me about dating. I had thirty years of being in a relationship that was never right. It was okay, but it was never right. Not for either one of us. And God knows, I don’t wanna do that again. I don’t wanna lose myself in another person.

So that is me pondering, “what’s next?” That woman there—younger me—I was pretty much “go where the wind blows me. Whatever’s meant to happen is gonna happen and I’m just going to go along with it.” And thank you to her for that.

But now I recognize my own power. I have the ability to co-create this reality. I can be intentional about the kind of life that I want to have, and live a life that intentionally faces in that direction. I won’t just be getting blown like a leaf on the wind, just having faith that I’ll land in just the right spot.

I hope you are able to experience even a portion of what this painting represents to me.