A Gift from Baidenne
What happens when Spirit uses art to remind you who you are.
Everyone deserves a story.
The way my eyes light up after passing all the beautiful artwork in Ghana, I can’t help but be inspired. So, I decided to score the last ticket for a local art class and see what happens. After all, I don’t know why I’m called to be here, and I can’t even explain how I’m following this invisible guidance. Nothing makes sense anymore, so I might as well go attempt to be an artist for the day.
I arrive at the studio, and I’m greeted by a local Ghanaian man, Baidenne, about my height, with a huge smile. Afrobeats is playing in the background, the bass and drums pulsing like vibrations, inviting me to release something in my body. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought my guides told him I was at the door; the gush of air seemed to invite me in. Immediately, I feel welcomed, wondering what I would discover today. I’ve been looking for signs daily, needing more proof that I wasn’t going crazy. Maybe this moment is one of the best GPS devices I’ve ever purchased—my intuition.
Baidenne is energetic, educational, and fun. I end up staying for his art class, learning more from his passion than from his words. It’s amazing what comes alive within a person when they are truly doing something they love. They have this glow, as if something else is speaking from the inside but using their lips to translate it. Isn’t that how flow works, after all? Go with the flow, and allow us to carry you now, I hear the voice again. How did a simple art class turn into a life lesson? Those doggone Afrobeats and drums—opening me up, making me see everything differently now.
He gives me a tour of the art studio and shows me his latest art collection. Instantly, my eyes open wide. It’s like all the portraits screamed at me at once:
We want a name too. Tell our story.
I turned to Baidenne and asked him about the origin of his drawings. What do they mean? Where does he draw his inspiration? I was hoping that would get the portraits to quiet down. I was surprised to hear that they didn’t have stories. That was my first sign.
Name me, then name yourself, they said.
I jokingly told Baidenne I wanted to give each of his portraits a story, just making them up as I go, so he wouldn’t know what was really going on in my mind. But suddenly, I reached the end of the row, and—oh no. This can’t be me.
I turned to him like I’d seen a ghost. I’m sure he felt it too.
This portrait resonated with me. She said: I am you.
I blurted out, See No Fear.
He looked at me like he finally understood what was happening.
The painting was of me at a younger age. I could see her so clearly now. I began to tell the story behind this painting: a young girl with her hair wrapped in a bright headband, looking out into the future, a golden aura surrounding her. I noticed the eyes were intentionally left off, so I asked Baidenne about it.
He explained that in some of his pieces, he had intentionally placed the eyes in unconventional places, but for this one, he left them out completely.
It was another message.
See no fear. The eyes I used to depend on were no longer necessary.
The invisible force that called me here today was trying to call me out by showing me why I’m here. Just like in the painting, I don’t understand everything in front of me. But I’m seeing through another eye now. One that’s invisible. The one I’ll depend on from now on.
This painting is my rebirth.
She’s looking out into the future with her head held high, which surprises me for a girl with no eyes. It’s almost like she can see it coming. Or feel it. That’s when something else clicked.
It’s me. It’s my name. It’s my rebirth.
From here on out, I will assign a meaning to my story. I am the artist of my life, and I choose what this story means to me. Suddenly, I felt not just for myself, but for so many others. We go through life letting others define our story’s meaning when really, we are the artists.
We can choose to change the meaning. Add more paint. Add more streaks. Paint it all white and start over again. Whatever you do, understand you are the artist.
Now I wonder, does the art speak to everyone when they walk in? Maybe it’s here to teach us.
I have an idea. Why don’t I reassign the meaning of my name? From here on out, my name means The Bright-Headed Warrior.
There’s something about giving the art a story that made me want to understand my own more deeply. Maybe that’s what the art was trying to teach me today. My guides are so funny.
As class ended, Baidenne pulled me to the side and gifted me See No Fear.
Suddenly, I no longer needed to understand the invisible force. I just knew.
Confirmation.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, Baidene. Your art speaks louder than any canvas could hold.
Think of an object, a piece of art, or a moment that “spoke” to you. What message might it have for you about your current chapter of life?