This bull was a bit scary for a lot of people who saw him. I can only guess about why, but I know when the man who bought him saw Red Bull he immediately identified with him. He saw the bull as his best part, his true nature and he was proud of it. I immediately liked him. Not just because he wanted the painting, because he was not afraid of himself. It made him gentle to me. I don’t know how it made anyone else feel, or his wife, I was told he wanted the painting over the bed. I thought it was a great choice for him!
Of course there is a time to show your Red Bull and there is a time to stable him. We all have a Red Bull I believe. We don’t all have access to him. And when he’s in the barn and we don’t go near the barn, don’t tend the stable, keep the doors intact, the hinges working, well, there can be an explosion.
There’s no sight I love more than a contented bull in a field of hay and grass. Yes, I’m keeping the metaphor going – I’ve been known to exhaust them! There is no room for trickle down. Our frustration and anger, when explored, can be a mighty friend. The kind you call on when you need someone really strong – where I’m from in Boston, we call on the “boys from Sommerville.” In my home growing up on the Missouri it was the guys from Black Jack – and yes, it really was named Black Jack.
I nurture that part of myself. That’s where Red Bull came from after all.