I don’t want to grow old before my time and I fear I may have during these last 2 ½ years of shingles… I choose strength. I choose to stay strong, to get strong again—one day at a time, one foot in front of the other. I can already feel a glimmer of my old self returning and I’m thrilled.
Grief First
I don’t get to just give lip service in a blog post to what I want and then have it happen. I don’t get to simply decide to accept my situation and then have it be somehow eased. I have work to do…
Stick
But something vital I’ve come to know is this: no matter how hard it is to hold on sometimes, we are not disposable. Our selves, our dogs, our relationships, are not to be shunted aside when they become too difficult.
A Journey to Rociada
… and standing in the middle of that street, with no traffic, in the midst of all those abandoned buildings, the mercantile and houses, it was so quiet… It was almost as if I was sensing the silent footprints of a world now out of fashion.
The Kitchen Table
It’s a wonder, right there for the taking, every single day, whether it be a kitchen table, a studio, a pasture, neighboring horses, the snores of contented and safe animals, someone we love, a finished painting, a painting in progress, the sun rising, the sun setting…
Perspective
Then it comes so clear to me: life is not what we leave behind. That’s history. Life is the living of it, in these moments when our hearts are beating in our chests, when our eyes gaze across the great beauties…
Making Art Because…
And my heart silently shifted back. Back to one who wants to believe again—even if that belief is somewhat fragile—in the making of marks on paper or canvas, just to be making marks.
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