At barely five feet tall, Dr. Edith Wallace was a force of nature. Her brilliant white hair was accented by the rich shades of purple she wore. She was elegant and filled with a divine Grace. Yet her eyes spoke of mischief - past and present.
Edith created a form of art therapy involving tissue paper collage. This was a focal point in her seminars. She supplied every color imaginable, all cut to her size specifications. These were laid out in an order dictated by Edith on long tables. We were instructed to select the colors that appealed to us in the moment. We took the tissue paper to a work station where there were pieces of poster board, paintbrushes and a watery glue mixture. We were instructed to tear the tissue paper into pieces, assemble them on the poster board, and immediately brush the glue mixture over them to secure them into place. We were told to work in silence, not to belabor this process and not to attempt to create recognizable forms or something of beauty. After we completed one collage, we were to sign it on the back and draw an arrow indicating which way is up. We could make as many as we wanted during the allotted amount of time.
At the end of the collage-making process, Edith would ask each participant, one at a time, to set their collages up on an easel in front of everyone. She would make comments based on any impressions she received from the assemblages.
The first set of collages I made were of muted colors: gray, brown, pale pink. On one, I pasted bright red, yellow and green and then covered these up with black. When I displayed my collages, Edith asked me if I had children. I was startled by this question. "Yes," I said, rather timidly.
"Do you ever play with them?"
"I used to." I broke down and cried, blubbering out all manner of excuses for why I was no longer able to play with my children as I once did. Edith listened patiently. And all she said was, "You must find you inner jester. You must allow yourself to play."
At that point in my life, Edith's words were monumental. They shook me to my core.
I had been severely depressed. Ex-husband guy had violently attacked me. My world was collapsing in around me. I had no hope. And in Edith's simple question, "Do you play with them?" I realized how far removed I had become from my core, from my delight.
After lunch one day, I went to the room I was sharing with other participants and stretched out on the twin-sized bed. The surroundings were lush for me but rustic for others, I'm sure. The seminar was housed in a 200 year-old mansion built by George Washington for his nephew Bushrod Corbin Washington. My room had a lovely upstairs view of the apple orchard out back.
I lay on my bed looking up at the high ceiling, aware of the afternoon colors, and trying very hard to feel some warmth. I thought of my murky collages. And I thought about my daughter, who was at this time, six. My daughter, who radiates warmth, was going through a phase of drawing rainbows. Self portraits, tracings of her hand, landscapes. No matter what the subject was, each drawing had a rainbow.
I wondered about this. How did she become that way? How did she become so bright, so warm, so full of color? I had nothing to do with it! She just is that way.
But then I thought, wait a minute. I did have something to do with it. I housed her in my body for 40 weeks. I gave birth to her. Whatever is inside of her that creates rainbows has to be in me as well. It has to be. Right?
It was time to reconvene in the main room downstairs for more collage-making. As I selected my colors, I was drawn to the colors that had danced around in the room upstairs when I was having my revelation. And then, I selected the bold colors of the rainbow. I made two collages and felt satisfied - as if there was nothing more to express.
When Edith looked at my two collages, she remarked that she saw birds in flight in both of them. She was glad, she said. I seemed to have connected with precisely what I needed in order to heal: play. Indeed, I felt worlds lighter. Almost giddy in fact.
We chose a collage to "dance," to bring to life with music and movement. We selected a piece of music, and we performed our dance for each other. I do not remember the piece of music that I selected. But I remember moving my body as if every limb, every gesture was an expression of a rainbow. Full of a vibrant radiance, a warmth and most of all hope.
It is incredibly easy to become absorbed in the act of day-to-day living, so much so that we fail to notice the beauty inside us and around us. If we allow the daily grind and the unkind people around us to continually drag us down into despair, anxiety, or hopelessness, our experience of life becomes dim and colorless. But we all have a rainbow inside that is ready to radiate out. We all have a vibrant joy that is uniquely ours. It may seem very far away. But I guarantee you, if you look for that inner jester who loves to laugh and play, who is filled with wonder and a tiny bit of mischief, your rainbow will appear. And you will be so glad.
So I invite you, dear friend, to go outside and play today. Jump in a mud puddle, or a pile of leaves. Tumble down a hill, or climb a tree. Assemble a crown of clover. Then wear it. Because you now occupy your royal station. You have found your inner jester.
~For Brooke Edwards~
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