Sometimes I pick up a brush and forget for a while that my body is crumbling. I put paint on paper. It often makes me cry doing this. As a child I couldn’t “do” art - largely a result of the stifling of my creativity that stemmed from the enduring sexual abuse I suffered.

Art heals. Painting heals. Meditation heals too. The word comes from the same latin root as the word medicine. Medicine has not been healing my body and I place the blame squarely on the shoulders of certain doctors who have been lead so far astray from truth by the sze and importance of their own ego’s that they do not wish to see that which is before them.