Burning Beneath

I didn’t start this piece with a plan.
I started it with a feeling.

When I walked into the class, each chair held a different stone. I didn’t think about it too much, I just followed what pulled me. Mine was a thin, elongated piece of blue obsidian. Almost like a flake. Light, but sharp in presence. It spoke quietly, but clearly, so I chose that spot.

Later, I learned what it represented.
Communication. Mental clarity.
A space where thoughts can move freely and negativity can be released.

We placed the stone at the edge of the paper, and then something simple began.
Just push it gently with a marker. Let it move. Don’t control it. Don’t guide it too much. Just follow.

And that’s when something shifted.

The purple lines you see aren’t planned. They are traces of movement. Of surrender. Of allowing something outside of my control to lead, while I stayed present with it. The stone would change direction on its own, creating unexpected paths, curves, intersections. And instead of correcting it, I followed it.

There was something deeply calming about that.

No perfection.
No expectations.
No need to make it “look right.”

Just movement.

As the lines formed, colors started to fill the spaces between them. Soft yellows, greens, pinks. And in some places, deeper reds appeared, like small pulses of emotion finding their way through. Nothing was separate. Everything connected. Just like thoughts, just like feelings, just like us.

What I see now when I look at this piece is not just art.
I see a moment where I allowed myself to release control.
To trust the process.
To let something guide me without resistance.

And maybe that’s what communication really is.
Not forcing words. Not overthinking every expression.
But allowing what’s inside to move, to flow, to connect.

This piece feels like clarity, not because everything is organized, but because everything is allowed.

And maybe that’s where clarity truly begins.