My intentions weren’t so simple. Or were they? Something changed after the colors were poured into a plate and said hello to each other. Brush said she was interested in making something moving, but I told her I wasn’t in the mood. Besides, it was too much pressure. By that point, the scent of the paint had caught my nose, which always triggers the same feelings, albeit in different strengths. Desire. Worry. Uncertainty. Excitement. Happiness. Curiosity. Brush, who by that point I’d been rolling between my thumb and forefinger and dusting about my nose and chin, asked me if I was ready, as she was starting to get dizzy.
“Whee!” Brush laughed as I dipped her bristles into the colors. I’d always imagined she’d find the cold paint bracing, but she doesn’t complain, so she doesn’t seem to mind. Then it was time for left brain to sit back, like I often have to do when I write. It protested. “I understand the mechanics of the world better than right brain does,” it pointed out. “Yes,” I replied, “but you also get in the way. So stuck on the outer, and no faith in the inner. Besides, this isn’t about logic. I just don’t need you right now”. Left brain relented, making Brush laugh again. “So what are we doing?” Brush asked me, more to stir things up than actually wanting an answer.
“Play. We’re just playing.”
“That’s right. Play, with you, me, right brain, and time.” I breathed in as left brain complained for having been left out. Brush and I reached out to the page, whispering hello as the paper came alive with color. And an idea came. “Let’s play with meteors.” And so we did.