I left behind my family for nine days to carve out some alone time to mend the raw places in my heart. I felt battered and bruised internally, and I recognized how crucial it was for me to be in a place that felt nurturing and safe. I sought the refuge of the mountains, and it was on the deck of a little cabin in the woods where I discovered that the mountain skies were filled with a type of bird that I had never seen before. The Mountain Jay. He captivated my attention! I strained to see more of the striking blues that were on the belly and wings. The birds were rarely still enough to fully show the brilliance of their colors and I thought it was somehow tragic that so few would get to see their true beauty. If the birds would just be still for more than a lightening second then it would be possible. Then it occurred to me that if I sat still for more than a lightening second, the same potential for beautiful moments might exist for me. I let this idea marinate for weeks after I returned home from my trip. The quiet time to myself had begun to mend the frayed parts of me, and brought with it an abundance of inspiration. I felt compelled to paint the blues of the birds I had seen. I painted my blue-jay reaching upward with wings outstretched in a position of vulnerability. It was an act of vulnerability, in fact, for me to even attempt to paint something so detailed without a knowledge of how to go about doing it. Doubts flooded in several times during the painting process, to the point where I almost threw the whole thing out numerous times. I reached for the courage to keep going, and discovered that there was so much power in accepting everything I saw as flaws in the painting and instead focus on the joy of the discovery process. I wanted this bird to stretch out his wings so that all the blues were reflected in a moment of reaching and courage and brilliance.