Ophelia

(Thank you, Wikipedia!)

I absolutely love this painting. I love the way that she is weakly holding the flowers. I love how the flowers provide small splashes of bright color in a painting that is mainly comprised of earthy colors. I love the way her dress has spread itself out underwater, like a broken angel wing. I love the expression on her face that so clearly communicates that she is already done with this world and just waiting for her body to get with the program, as her soul is already in Cabo and on its third margarita.

This painting is like an oily map of my own personal battleground. On the one hand, there's the part of me that just wants to wallow sleepily in a tranquil pool of misery and stay there, where it's quiet, where I don't have to decide anything, and where I get to envision myself as a beautifully tragic, porcelain-skinned heroine who is just sooooooo misunderstood. On the other hand, there's the part of me that is screaming from the shore: "What the hell is wrong with you?! Get out of that pond! You're getting algae in your hair and ruining an expensive, exquisite confection of a dress!! You don't GET TO avoid difficult things. That ain't how life works!! Now, GET UP!!"

Well, needless to say, the "shore voice" always wins. I always end up swapping my petticoat for a pair of overalls, and getting down and dirty with whatever task is at hand. At the same time, though, I'd like to think that there's a little bit of Ophelia in every woman, and that she has her own brand of wisdom that can actually be quite useful from time to time. While it's not necessarily good to wallow and get stuck (and, em, it's not good to commit suicide, obvs....), sometimes you have to sit with something, and submerge yourself in it, before you can climb out of it and be on your way.