the reason why

I have been cleaning up, clearing old debris and organising papers, I found this piece I wrote about 12 years ago and since it relates to my art, I thought I'd post it here. It was written during my very long recovery from post-natal depression.

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I wandered around the exhibitions of art at the Arts Festival, reeling from the awe in my heart. The "high" art, the everyday art, the art that is a tribute to beauty and endeavour. I fearfully tried to let the beauty permeate; I tried to allow it inside, to feel it. I struggled with the fear; I wanted to run from it; I wanted to shut out the beauty and the light but I could not close myself, and then, at one moment...

... the beauty, the joy broke through my defences and touched my soul. At that point the tears arose and I felt pain. I stood, my heart tearing, joy and pain, fire and rain, mingled in a searing instant. I wanted pain, the familiar pain, not joy, but joy was not to be denied. And joy, once it came, did not come alone, there was no escape in the beauty, nowhere to hide from the pain.

... and I knew... the was the very heart of my life, the essence of my being, my reason why. The reason the cold tears run down my face while the warm blood runs through my veins. The reason why both must keep flowing...

... and I knew pain was not less than joy and joy not less than pain and that choosing life was to allow both, for in that, there is no choice.