Learning to fly again: Art heals

Paralysis. Paralysis is what propelled me into a world of creativity. We all have a story which depicts our creative journey. Here is mine.

Broken wings
I was a school teacher for six years. I was also a military wife. I was one of the lucky ones. My husband had survived four tours overseas without a scratch. It wasn’t until his return from his final tour overseas that he fell from the sky and would never be the same. Like a bird with a broken wing, he was unable to fly anymore. He had broken his back and instantly became paralyzed waist down. He was a parachute instructor for the Canadian Armed Forces. On June 30, 2005, he would no longer be able to use his wings but he would learn to fly again!

I was always a creative person like so many of us. I always made handmade gifts for the people in my life … cards, hand painted boxes filled with trinkets, dolls, and scrapbooks even before they were called scrapbooks. I expressed my love for others by making things with my hands.

My tool for survival
Throughout the years, creativity was not only a passion, a love, but also a tool for survival. I needed creativity like people need food. I needed to express this part of myself regularly, and without it I would get sick … at first emotionally and then physically. For me this artistic expression was a vehicle for my emotions, my fears, my pain, my dreams and mostly my love. It became apparent to me that teaching elementary school was no longer fulfilling my need for everything artistic. I was teaching grade six for three years straight and was strongly encouraged to teach in a manner that prepared the students for the provincial mandatory testing. My wings were broken. I could no longer fly the way I needed to explore this beautiful world. My heart was tired. I needed a change. I decided to throw caution to the wind. I decided to join the world of entrepreneurship and open up a store called Creative Balance: A place to nurture your creativity. I planned to offer workshops in beading and have artists give workshops in painting watercolor, acrylics and mixed-media. I was alive again. I was soaring…

Through all these years of creating, the deepest part of me knew that I was an artist. My soul wanted me to paint on canvas.

But sadly, two weeks before opening the doors to Creative Balance, my husband would fall from that beautiful clear blue sky and the sun would shine on his body lying on the drop zone. I never did have a chance to inhabit that store. Four months later, after the operation, rehab and many days walking the streets of cities I did not call home, we returned to our nest.

A wonderful local woman offered to buy the contents of my store so I was able to rid myself of the debt I had incurred. Six months later we moved back to the northern city of our childhood. The one we called home.

It is here that I continued to use creativity as a tool for survival. I signed up for a creative writing class at the local university that allowed me to express my pain and my loss. I wrote three short stories in this class. Two of them are now part of a collection of short stories that I hope to publish. These stories express my truth, our truth as a Canadian military family in modern day. All the stuff you don’t hear about on the six o’clock news.

I continued beading. I continued creating. I decided to try my hand at the entrepreneur thing again. I had unfinished business. One year after returning to our home town, I opened another store called Mimi and Lulu: Handcrafted Designs and Studio. This time with a partner, a cousin who was also a dissatisfied teacher. Here, we offered workshops in beading, sewing and felting. We sold supplies and offered a place where women could come to nurture their creativity.

Giving birth to my dreams
It was a great run, but a short one. After working extremely hard for two years our lives were going into different directions and we decided to go our own ways. She would give birth to her beautiful baby boy Remi, and I would give birth to one of my deepest dreams. The one of becoming a visual artist.

There are some things you feel in your bones in your DNA. Through all these years of creating, the deepest part of me knew that I was an artist. My soul wanted me to paint on canvas. But for years I let my fear of not being good enough, to lead the way. Until now.

Pushed to the next level
Three months ago, I started to paint. Every day, I put paint on that bright white canvas and made it my own. With sheer determination, the ugly ducklings eventually turned into swans. One month later, this small town Canadian girl traveled to North California to an Art Retreat called ARTful Journey where I met my tribe, my soul sisters. They helped push me to the next level. They said yes with so much love that I believed them, and upon my return, I created Her Painted Word. I am now painting everyday and selling my work on Etsy. Less than 12 hours after listing my paintings, I sold an original to a woman in England.

The Universe said YES. Since then, I have been living my creative dream, blogging and painting and sharing. My artwork is inspired by the journey of the soul, the dreams in the pockets of our hearts and the struggles we endure and overcome. Art heals. I am living proof of this. Without this creative expression, I would surely be unable to flap my wings over the meadows and grassy hills. Art saved my heart from the landfills. Hallelujah.

Note: My husband has learned to fly again. While he still sits in his chair to view the world, his perceptions have been blown open. He participated in the Beijing Paralympics and is now working towards his degree with hopes to enter medical school. We are blessed. We are happy. Art  heals. Art saves.

Danielle Fraser is a mixed-media artist who lives in Ontario, Canada. To learn more about her, reader her blog at lepetitstudio-woolf.blogspot.com, and visit her Etsy shop at etsy.com/shop/herpaintedword.

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