I get weird neurological events when I have a migraine headache. Like most people with migraines I see spots sometimes, lights, auras, bolts of lightening, pixelations; I have sensitivity to light and sound; heightened sensations of touch and smell; sometimes tunnel vision, sometimes lost vision; nausea and pain of course. But I sometimes get weird things where the brain forgets which sensory organ goes with which stimulation. I look at a color and get a flavor in my mouth. Sometimes I get the strongest urge to taste my paint, because I just KNOW what that color tastes like and it is so delicious! I resist, but the struggle is real.

When I start tasting the flavors of colors I am looking at, I HAVE to paint. I have to interact with that color. It overwhelms me with the need to connect, consume, whatever, with that color. And usually, since my head is in so much pain I can't put thoughts together so well, the paintings don't usually turn out so good, and I just chalk them up to scribbling with paint and learning about colors, values, contrasts, etc, much later when I can look at them with some reasonable intelligence.

Last night was an exception. I started tasting gold, metallic red, violet, pearl white, black.... And a specific memory came to mind.

There was a pond that was a decent hike into the woods where I grew up. It wasn't huge, but if all the snow was cleared off, it was enough space to skate around on. My younger sister and I loved to get other kids together to go with us to clear the snow off the ice. Mom would make a big thermos of hot chocolate, and sometimes a second thermos of hot Tang. She would follow us kids, and we all carried shovels. We were so bundled up in layers of padded winter clothing that our bodies could hardly bend at the waist. We would have to wade through deep snow, there was no trail, and only my sister and I knew how to find our way to the remote pond.

The whole day would be spent shoveling, slipping and sliding on the ice, chasing air bubbles that were trapped under the surface of the ice, skating, and enjoying general silliness. There were plenty of giggles and shenanigans, That cold pond holds so many warm memories. Memories of colors and smells and tastes and sounds. They all came pouring in on me last night while my brain insisted on tasting those colors. Gold light behind the trees tastes like orange Tang, hot orange Tang. Red and violet and pearl tastes sweet and melted and swirled together like a creamy chocolate with milk and marshmallows. Black tastes like cold icicles, melted snow. When I was done, I could see our pond.

There's nothing really technically good about the painting. I just liked it because it was the pond. I posted it on my facebook and instagram pages just to share part of my creativity, no explanation about the memory I attached to the painting. I share the good, the bad, the ugly without worry these days. It is all a part of me, and I like me. I thought I would get a few "likes" from family as a gesture of familial love. What I got was the most beautiful compliment I have ever received. The most beautiful love.

My Sis: Do you remember the pond in the woods near the old house? The one we cleared off sometimes to ice skate on? I have pictures somewhere of me and my friend XXXX on it. Well this painting took me there in a way that took my breath away. I can see it, feel it, smell it, and yes even taste it. So many memories came flooding back when I haven't even thought of that little spot in the woods in... I don't even know how long. I love this painting so much.

Me: Yes, that was the pond I was trying to get on canvas....

My Sis: You captured it. Somehow in the whole feel and taste of it. You took me back again the second I saw it. The feel and taste of the sky and how it is reflecting, is a feel I don't think anyone else could have done without being there because it made me FEEL those times. And I didn't even know that you were trying to paint it and yet I was taken there. That's an immeasurable talent sissy. You caught MORE than a picture. Sorry I am repeating myself. Feeling a little overwhelmed by some forgotten yet treasured memories.

...
There is so much healing in this memory of this place for me. My sister and I deeply love each other. Our childhood was not very full of beautiful or happy moments, let alone moments we got to share and have the same experience. It is hard for me to think of ANY other place in our childhood that was like the pond, because ONLY happy memories happened there, for both of us.