Smack! right between the Eyes

There is no way around it. I am a girl. No matter how strongly I wish and pray for it to be otherwise, I am. And in this current state, where it is undeniably true, I can only say this...
I hate biology. Everything was going just fine for a while. I could create art at the drop of a hat. I had a well of emotional experience to draw from that gave me wonderful positive imagery and bright colors for the works I thought would inspire.
I haven't been at a canvas in months. The last time I sat down to a session, I had just finished working with the root chakra in Verta's class. And I got stuck. The heart was easy after I cranked out, what I must say in my own horn tooting way, was a brilliant solar plexus. But then I went onto the sacral... things slowed down. It won't open. I thought maybe I could get to the root (pun intended) and work my way up. I got the motif for the hand made stamp to use in the background. But that's it.
I settled on a lily motif. It is my standby favorite... the Stargazer. It is an Asiatic lily with translucent white petals and a blood red speckling with a heavy concentration of spots near the stamen. From the center toward the midpoint of each petal a gorgeous autumn sunset hot pink bleeds across the petal. It is beautiful. I used to grow them. They were to be the center point of my ST:TNG garden as that was captain Picard's first ship as captain. But during my last relationship, the stargazer became our flower. It was the center of artwork we collaborated on. Now that the relationship is over, and since it ended badly, the stargazer is an archaic symbol of former glory. My love boat is very much like Picard's Stargazer after the battle of Maxima... a derelict ghost ship.
The heart has to participate in creation. This is the well from which I have to draw right now. I can't believe that it took me this long to figure it out. I may never have figured it out if it weren't for my current biologic malfunction. Traditionally lilies of any stripe are death flowers. The smell is strong enough to mask decay, which is part of why funerals use them. I certainly hadn't been able to smell how rotten my state was. Now that I am crying over everything, I have to acknowledge the possibility that my heart is unhealthy.
It isn't that I can't love. I am afraid. I am afraid that as good as a relationship can be it will always end in tragic disappointment. I don't really want to love someone for fear that I will hate them later. Or worse, that I won't hate him enough and let him come back to do more harm. But... without love, there is nothing. And that's exactly what is on my studio table. A big mess of nothing.
I have to start all over again. I have to take these great new friendships, the kids, ACG, and a reconnection with old school chums to rebuild my foundation. I've been cold inside. I, had hoped that the Internet dating would be, could be, a way to relight the pilot, so to speak. But, I won't make that kind of connection until the furnace is warm. No one comes to a cold house. And here I think I should be greatful that ACG and I are great friends. He didn't run screaming and he didn't feel that Tikkun kind of spark. I can't imagine the kind of chaos my unhealthy heart could have done to him, and or us, had there been one.
I'll know I am ready for a healthy future when I can make art for others again. I'm already getting better. I want to make artwork for my new friends. I just haven't the drive to put it out there. Perhaps there is no better way for me to know when I am ready for this or not. If art is my heart and I can't give the art away, or have apoplectic fits over the decision to share, then maybe i am not as ready as I thought I was when i signed up for this crazy ride. Then again, had I not signed up... chicken and eggs. Can't have one without the other but which came first is any body's guess.