Each person was instructed to choose an individual strength and communicate that strength using art. The blank, unusually shaped pieces of paper on the floor were on their way to becoming metaphors for the people in the room. 

Rather than handing-out the pieces, or piling them in a stack, the art therapists leading the session, Stephanie Wise and Ashley Dorr, suggested that each person choose the piece from the floor that speaks to them. I appreciated the approach, since the selection of art materials is pivotal for self-expression; my chosen piece was shaped like a chubby half-moon – kind of curved, yet wide enough to hold up to the art experience (whatever that might turn out to be).

Once in my chair, like some others in the room, I stared at my blank slate and gave it a healthy pause. After about 45 seconds, the piece needed green, a really dark on-the-scary-side green. And orange, lavender, baby blue, and some other colors that I had no idea why I was choosing them, but they felt good at the time. I started drawing with the deep green, oil pastel crayon.  The stick figure that appeared from the thickly applied green felt fearless and strong -- and, the moment I internally "spoke" the word, I knew the stick figure was me . . . physically strong, as I had been described by my new Lebanese friend.  Clearly, her suggestion was powerful.  I kept drawing.

My goals, at all times, are to be as smart and courageous as I can be.  Which leads me to my next full disclosure:  to me, true courage is the most critical of all personal qualities.  The courage I value is honest, fair, empathetic and doesn't let fear stand between her and the right path.  I picked up a crayon and rewarded the courageous green figure with happy squiggles of lavendar, rays of yellow light, and glimpses of baby blue sky.  I help up my work, tilted the art in the light, and flipped her upside down -- and, you know what?  She was still fearless upside down.  My green, strong girl was just as courageous upside-down as she was right-side-up.  Excellent. 

Almost done, I decided.  Just needed a bit of dark orange and red, and a bit of smearing and shmushing.  The affect was striking, although I don't know what I had expected since I hadn't had a plan (I was drawing the feelings as they came to me, as instructed).  With the addition of these fiery colors, it looked like I felt my courageous girl was floating over chaos -- perhaps a bit dangerously.

"This is good.  It feels real,"  I thought to myself.  "And the chaos looks risky and uncertain, but I do not feel afraid."

Little did I know that I would need a great deal of courage the next day, because I was about to face chaos and it WAS dangerous.