Many, many years ago, I needed a break, something to relieve the stresses of the everyday and let me breathe.
 
I tried yoga: no good. I tried meditation: didn’t work. Badminton: not for me.

 

Disappointed, I finally let my Mom drag me to one of her painting classes.
 
“You might like it,” she said.
 
“Sure, Mom,” I answered just to please her.  I was afraid I wouldn’t be good, but I went anyway.
 
So I sat down at my easel that first time, and a few hours later when the painting class was over, it was as if no time had passed at all.

 

Years later, I can see now that my first painting wasn’t my best, but I had found something that took me out of myself and let me breathe.

 

For three hours at a time, the rest of the world disappeared and it was just me and a group of other students concentrating on our own work and sharing ideas and encouragement.
 
I kept at it. I learned new techniques. I began to master colours. I became more courageous and tried new things. I pushed myself, but at my own pace. And my skills grew.
 
So many of us think “I can’t even draw a straight line! How can I paint anything?”

 

If you think that that is a problem, have another look at a Riopel or a Pollack.

 

Anyway, I was just as reluctant as you might be until I happened to find a teacher who encouraged me, who let me push myself, but who guided me so that whenever I grew discouraged with my own results, I had someone I could trust to help me find another way.
 
If you want to try, I can do the same for you.
 
Who knows? Maybe you should listen to my Mom: “You might like it!”